by Phil Tucker
“I don’t know. It will depend on how our first meeting goes. But. I am afraid. From what I hear she is now a completely different creature. There may not be any Sethe left to her; she seems now to be all Arachne.”
“And if that’s the case?” Selah looked up at him. “If she has changed completely?”
“I will kill her.” His voice was soft. Sad. “I can’t—I won’t let her live on as a mockery of herself.”
Selah looked down once more. “I understand. I would want somebody to kill me if I were to turn into a vampire.” She felt her eyes burn, and looked back up at Theo. They looked into each other’s eyes, both black, both darker than even the night, and finally he nodded. He had understood. Selah forced herself to relax. Had she been tempted by Louis’ words? Immortality, power, all the rest? Perhaps. Just a little. But now it wouldn’t matter. Theo had understood—and it would never come to that.
They stood in silence upon the bridge until Theo gestured for Selah to follow. She glanced back and saw that Cloud had fallen asleep. She thought of moving to him, kissing his still face, finding a blanket for him somewhere, but let those thoughts go. Instead, she turned and followed Theo off the bridge and up another flight of steps toward the Japanese house.
Theo walked in utter silence. He was a shadow that she doubted she would’ve been able to detect with mortal eyes. Even now, she had to strain to follow his passage up to a second bench. She sat beside him. He looked out over the small garden, hands clasped between his knees, and she took advantage of the moment to study him.
A memory came back to her. Of when he had saved her from Jocasta, had taken her to the beach to wash her body clean of the filth and blood. How his naked skin had gleamed under the light of the moon, the ocean surging around his waist as he stared up at the sky, the muscles of his chest and shoulders tightening into relief each time he resisted the pull of the tide. The grief that had been writ large on his face, the pain. That was still there, buried deep, Theo’s secret heart of unrelenting grief.
“There is something else you should know,” he said at last. “Tomorrow night, Louis will ask a favor of you, and no doubt he’ll make it sound a small thing. But that’s why you need to know more about what’s happening here in Los Angeles. It is … very different from Miami.” His smile was mirthless. “I feel as if I have swum into a whirlpool. There are forces at play here that I don’t understand.”
“Why?” asked Selah. “What’s going on? Is this about the Blood Dust? And the gangs? The military?”
Theo looked at her and nodded. “Yes. Have you seen any Blood Dust yet?” When she shook her head, he looked back out over the garden. “I have. I was curious. It’s supposed to be made from vampire blood. That claim isn’t new. The fact that it actually is, however, is unheard of.”
“It’s actually made of vampire blood?” Selah leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Then—anybody who takes it?”
“Gets high on vampire potency. I would imagine it a mild version of what you experienced in Miami.”
“I’m not sure. We ran into some Dusters—that’s what they’re called when they’ve gone too far—and they didn’t seem like me. They seemed more like animals. As if—as if the Dust were shutting down their brains and just giving them the blood hunger. They were fast, and strong, but nowhere near where I used to get.” Selah thought of their twisted faces, their teeth filed to points, their emaciated frames. “And it kills them. Eventually. They waste away, form these groups called ‘nests’, and when they hit that point they seem to stop acting human altogether. The gangs move in at that point and exterminate them.”
Theo listened closely, and then nodded. “So I’ve heard. Tens of thousands are taking it, here in in Los Angeles. But the Dust is sold elsewhere. The gangs make most of their money by exporting it to the rest of the country.”
Selah nodded. “I heard that too. The military here is paid by the gangs to turn a blind eye. Or even helps.” She thought that over. “But … wait. If it’s made of vampire blood, then… Who are the donors?”
Theo raised an eyebrow. “Indeed. Who are the generous vampire souls that are fueling a nationwide drug trade? That is what I’ve been asking myself.”
“I mean, there are a lot of vampires here in LA,” said Selah. “Much more than Miami. Between all the vampire packs, there must be easily three hundred, even four hundred. Could that be enough?”
Theo shrugged. “I don’t know. I have only questions. Karl Plessy needed money for specific goals. He acted as a distributor for Central and South American drug dealers. Cocaine mostly. He allowed the wealthiest and most corrupt American citizens to buy their immortality and become vampires. Created a system where each person in Miami could be freed through a payment of a hundred thousand dollars. All that money was poured into his public relations machine, given to his lobbyists, used to create television shows, to broadcasting the Freedom Fights. All very complex, all very creative and clever. But also simple, in its own way. Money in, money out.”
“But here,” said Selah, catching on, “the vampires in LA are making even more money. But they’re not building anything like Plessy was, are they? They’re just letting everything go to hell. So where is the money going?”
“Exactly,” said Theo. “Where does the blood come from? Where does the money go? What are the vampires here trying to accomplish? And how are they accomplishing it?”
Selah’s mind raced as she tried to puzzle it out. What could vampires need money for, when all of the LA core was theirs to rob? When they didn’t care about the well-being of humans, or how the rest of the nation perceived them? She shook her head.
“Are you going to ask Louis? You’re a vampire. They might just tell you.”
Theo’s grin was predatory. “I’m a vampire, yes, but from Miami. I’m… a guest here, but not a member of Louis’ court. Did you ever wonder how each vampire determined which city he was to go to?”
“No,” said Selah, and then laughed. “You know, I never even thought about it.”
“At the end of the War, we were given the choice: Miami or Los Angeles. Or so it seemed. When Sawiskera chose Miami, the choice for us became Sawiskera’s rule and all it entailed, or freedom.” Theo shook his head. “Sawiskera. I still can’t believe he’s gone. It’s like waking up one night to see that the moon has disappeared forever. You keep checking the night sky for it—but no. Somehow, it’s gone.” Theo shook his head. “But understand. No vampire acted without first considering how Sawiskera would take the action. No move could be played without his tacit approval. He never commanded, but you would simply disappear if you found yourself set in opposition to him. There could be no disagreement, no alternate path, ever—he was simply too powerful.
“So when the chance came to separate from him, many, if not most, leaped at it. Those who went to Miami approved of order, in some fashion. Those who came to LA wanted to finally run free, to act as they desired. To act as rats with no cat in the house.”
“Oh …” said Selah. “So with Sawiskera gone, does that mean Miami is going to turn into LA?”
“I doubt it. Plessy does not have Sawiskera’s power, but he has instead a vicious intelligence and cunning—and an active desire to rule. Sawiskera lost any such desire millennia ago. It’s strange. All that power, and no desire to use it.”
“Yeah.” Selah rubbed at the insides of her elbows. “And now his blood is inside me.”
Theo turned to her. “Only his blood. Your mind and heart are your own.”
“It doesn’t always feel like it,” said Selah. “I—I killed a man earlier tonight. Without even thinking about it.” There. She had said it. She looked away. The queasiness she had felt before however was gone. To a creature as old as Theo, one murder was probably nothing. He didn’t respond at first. Simply watched her, and then looked back out over the garden.
“It is hard, losing your humanity.” Was that actual sadness in his voice? “I found it impossible to hold onto virtue when I first c
hanged. I thought myself a literal demon, claimed by Satan. That all was lost, and there was no point in holding onto morals. I did things that I shall never forgive myself for. And it didn’t touch me, didn’t matter. It was as if a wall stood between me and my better self.”
Selah turned back to him. “But you’ve changed. You’re different. Of all the vampires I’ve met, you’re the only one who cares. Who wants to …” She trailed off. His eyes gleamed in the dark.
“Am I different, Selah? Are you so sure? I served Sawiskera as his ‘Dragon’ and was feared. I have seen injustices committed time and time again and not even tried to intervene. During the War, it was I who embraced your second president. Do you think I came to Los Angeles to stop the trade in Blood Dust?” He laughed, and the sound was cold and lonely. “Think. What has been my motivation all along, if not selfish?”
“I …” Selah paused. Shook her head. “No. That’s not true. You are different.” She couldn’t express why, though. “You’re not like the others. You’re good. There is still a part of you deep down who’s the man you used to be.”
Theo shook his head. “There is a ghost of him, perhaps. But that is all there is. I saved you because you reminded me of Sethe. I have come to LA to confront her. There is nothing to me that is not selfish or self-serving.”
“No,” said Selah again. “No, that’s not true.”
“Think of how you felt when you killed earlier tonight,” he said, voice almost gentle. “Was that you? No, of course not. You’ve told yourself that was your ‘vampire self.’ That the real you could never kill so coldly, so easily. You will tell yourself the same thing the next time you kill. That there was a reason for it, that it was your vampire self, not your true self. And that will hold, for a time. But there will come a night when you look down on yet another corpse, and the truth will finally come home to you. That the ‘true Selah’ is a killer. That there is only your vampire self, and that who you thought you were has become a ghost that you’ve been carrying with you to make yourself feel better.”
Theo stood. “Don’t believe it. You will not become a vampire in a few nights’ time. You, the thing in you that makes you Selah, your soul—will die. What will persist is your body, and the vampire spirit that has infected you. That is why each time one of those millionaires paid Plessy to embrace them, I laughed. The fools. They weren’t paying for immortality. They were paying for death.”
Selah looked up at him, negation rising within her. Yet his words resonated in her core, confirmed every worst suspicion she had. She shook her head. Rose to stand. “No. It won’t come to that. I won’t become a vampire. Louis has a cure.”
He smiled. Reached out and cupped her cheek with his cold hand. “I hope so, Selah. More than anything else, I hope so. You remind me so much of Sethe when she was human. I don’t plan to continue with this unlife after I kill Arachne. It would … please me to know that you were still alive, that that same goodness I loved when I was a man persisted in the world, even as I left it.”
Selah didn’t know what to say. This was too much. She reached up with a trembling hand and gently touched the back of his. So much grief. So much pain, stretching back through the centuries. How could she even pretend to understand what he felt, the years and decades of sorrow and horror, of hatred and misery? Was he as evil as he said, as selfish? She couldn’t believe it. Not when he stood like this before her, touching her cheek with the tenderness of a lover.
“Theo,” she whispered, and he withdrew his hand.
“Enough. Take your friend into the house. It’s empty, and will remain such. I’ve claimed it as my own. They may not talk to me in court, but they fear my strength. You will be safe inside. If all goes well, I will see you tomorrow night.” He turned and began to stride away.
“Where are you going?” She took a half step after him. He stopped, and looked over his shoulder at her. His smile sent shivers down her back.
“To feed,” he said. There was a brutal satisfaction in his voice. As if he were winning some impossible argument with her, with himself. “What else?” He walked down the steps, and with consummate ease disappeared into the night.
Selah slowly lowered herself to the bench once more. Reached out to touch where Theo had sat, and found the stone cold. Of course. She hugged herself and looked to where Cloud slept. A storm was building within her, a whirlwind of fear, terror, and hope. She didn’t feel tired. Didn’t feel any urge to sleep. She looked down upon Cloud’s slumbering body, and thought of Theo’s touch up on her cheek.
Selah awoke with the evening light fading against the far wall. She lay still, feeling drained and weak, Cloud’s arm draped over her, their bodies pressed together in the narrow bed. Through the open window came the light of the dying sun and the call of birds and crickets. She saw motes of dust turn and incandesce in the honeyed light. Cloud breathed softly by her side. She felt as if she were trapped in—not a snow globe—but a sun globe. Unable to move, to think.
It was evening. They’d slept through the day. These thoughts came to her as isolated facts, realizations. Which meant in a few hours she would meet with Louis, would learn the price of her freedom. She thought of Theo, his words, his warnings. What lay in wait for her should she fail to meet Louis’ demands. Selah closed her eyes. There was so much pressure on her, clamping around her head. This could be one of the last times she’d ever see sunlight, she realized. She raised her hand into the golden stream and felt its warmth on her skin. Turned her hand so that the palm faced the window, and thought of Sawiskera, drowned in power and only able to think of the rising sun.
Cloud stirred by her side. Shifted his weight, and slipped his leg over her thighs. She turned to face him. His eyes were closed, the strain gone from his features. She studied him, felt a mixture of tenderness, sorrow, and perhaps love. Did she love him? She tried to decide. Could she feel anything normal toward him with vampire blood in her veins? Could she even trust that what she felt was human, that of a normal woman? She felt desire stir within her. A hunger for him, for his touch, for his need. Leaned forward and kissed him.
His eyes opened, pupils dilating and then focusing on her. His hair hung before his face, and he watched her through the strands. His lips curved into a smile, and he shifted his weight, moving closer an inch. She smiled, and leaned in again, kissed him once more. He made a sound of appreciation and returned the kiss, one hand reaching across to cup her breast and caress it gently.
Selah’s kiss became hungrier. Thoughts slipped from her mind, and left her with her desire. For him, for his body, for his touch. For how right this felt, how human. He broke off the kiss and rose up onto one elbow, drew the sheet back so that she lay naked beside him. She met his eyes, exposed, vulnerable, her desire even more inflamed.
“Good morning,” he whispered, and she reached up to touch his mouth with her fingers. He laughed and bent down to kiss between her breasts, his right hand moving down to pull her hip closer to him. She gasped as he licked around the underside of her breast and them up to take her nipple in his mouth, moving her hands into his hair. His body was taut beside her, his hipbone pressing into her thigh, his sex rigid and demanding.
“Cloud,” she said as his kisses trailed down her stomach, and he moved his weight off the narrow bed so that he knelt at its foot. He kissed the smooth skin of her abdomen, trailed the crease between her thighs down further. Selah closed her eyes, and began to move her hips rhythmically, thrusting up as she turned her head from side to side. All thoughts of the night, of death, of corruption and terror fell away from her. There was only the moment, this golden moment in the dying light of the sun that arched and rose to a climax that seemed to last forever.
Later, they lay side by side, Selah’s head on Cloud’s shoulder, their legs intertwined. A warm glow suffused her, a feeling of lazy contentment, of abated desire. They’d finished eating the food Padrino Machado had given them they day before, and now lay with utter abandon. Selah stretched, extending her legs
and pointing her toes, and curled back into him, wriggling in closer. He chuckled, one arm around her shoulders, the other tucked behind his head. The shadows were thicker against the wall, the sky already turning to dusk.
Selah examined his chest and traced invisible designs across his skin. Cloud’s eyes were closed, and he seemed to hover on the edge of sleep.
“What did you want to be, back before you came to Miami?” His voice was lazy, curious. “Back in Brooklyn.”
“What did I want to be?” Selah frowned. Thought back. “I didn’t have any idea. I wasn’t even sure about going to university. I’d been accepted to a couple of places, but nowhere I was really excited about. I don’t know. What about you?”
“But what did you enjoy doing? What was your passion?”
Selah frowned some more. She closed her fingers into a loose fist and let it rest on his chest. “My passion? I don’t know.” She thought about it. Everybody had to have a passion, right? “I liked spending time with my friends. I liked being online, connecting with people. I guess I hadn’t figured it out yet.”
Cloud lay still, digesting this. “But when you arrived in Miami, you decided to help out pretty quick. That’s a passion right there.”
“I guess.” She studied the contrast in colors between her skin and his.
“What I mean is, what are you going to do after all this? When we get out of LA?”
“Huh?” She rose up to one elbow like he had before and studied his face. “After?”
“Sure.” He rose up onto both elbows as well. “When we get out of here. You can’t just go back to Brooklyn and pretend nothing ever happened. You can’t go back to Miami. So what are you going to do? What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know.” She smiled, and shook her head, delighted by the idea of a future. “What are we going to do?”
He grinned and lay back down. “I have plans. Secret plans.”