Blue Blood

by Richard Poche

  “Sabine.”

  “That’s right,” the witch said with a trace of what Veronica thought was a French accent. The old woman stared straight at Veronica as if reading her thoughts. Veronica could only clear her throat and try to calm her racing heart.

  “So, if you know why I was looking for you, then you know what for.”

  “Being a vampire is a good thing,” the witch’s voice hissed like a hungry snake. “You live longer. You ever have that feeling that you were born in the wrong place and wrong time? Well, I just gave you a solution to that problem. You can stick around forever.”

  “It isn’t for me,” Veronica said, glancing back at the old woman and noticing the assortment of different sized blackheads on the woman’s nose. “I was told that you have the ability to cast a spell and help me out.”

  “And in return?”

  “What is it you want?

  “I breed vampires,” Sabine said, one of her eyes twitching. “Maybe what I want is to have you out in the world. Creating more like you.”

  “I don’t want that.”

  “Nobody wants it,” Sabine said. “Only the crazy ones want it at first. But over time. You’ll learn to love it. It is really all about redefining the definition of what it means to be a vampire.”

  The witch leaned forward. Veronica felt the closeness of the old woman like a dark energy pressing down on her.

  “Trust me,” Veronica leaned back. “I don’t want to be a damn vampire.”

  “You can run the night,” Sabine slid her hand down Veronica’s arm with a startling swiftness until she grabbed her wrist. Veronica tried to wrench her arm away as Sabine licked it. The old witch’s grip felt like a vice. “Pretty girl like you can seduce the entire male population.”

  “I have to find my friend,” Veronica tried in vain to pull her arm away.

  Sabine whispered something that Veronica couldn’t hear. It sounded like a cross between a prayer and a spell.

  “Let go of me, you old cunt!”

  The old witch began nibbling on her hand. With a scream of disgust, Veronica finally wrenched her arm away.

  “Ha,” Sabine taunted, leaning back into her seat. “You’re scared of an old lady.”

  “Don’t fucking touch me.”

  “There is nothing to be afraid of.”

  “Get the fuck out of my car.”

  “I created the man who bit Terri. So, I created her. And now I created you.”

  Veronica looked in the rearview mirror again and saw Sabine’s reflection. The witch looked decades younger, her eyes twinkling with power.

  “See for me there is fun in the project. Can I teach someone to do what I do? As old as I am it is like trying to teach a cat how to talk.”

  Veronica hit the accelerator hard and pulled into the street.

  “I’d rather be dead.”

  “You were dead,” Sabine laughed.

  In the distance, Veronica saw a brick building. She floored the gas pedal.

  “But I gave you life.”

  Veronica gritted her teeth before screaming aloud, fighting the urge inside her. The urge to feed.

  “You can feel it now, can’t you?” Sabine raised her voice so that she could be heard above the increasing roar of the engine. “The hunger. The strength.”

  The car raced across the pavement. They sped over a field with tall weeds then a parking lot. They neared the wall which probably once housed an industrial plant.

  “I don’t want it!” Veronica screamed as gravel the underside of her car with increasing force.

  Sabine laughed as she opened the back door and rolled out.

  Only seconds away from the wall, Veronica’s cell phone rang.

  Mark’s name flashed on the screen.

  Veronica hit the brakes and turned the car to her left sharply, skidding in a circle.

  The car stopped only inches from the wall.

  Reaching over, she picked up the cell phone.

  “Mark? Mark? You’re not going to believe what just happened.”

  “Took the words right out of my mouth.”

  “Who is this?”

  “Click Face Time”

  Obliging the command, Veronica’s eyes widened as she remembered Doctor Patel from the hospital. He stared at her with droop-lidded eyes as if he were half-asleep.

  “Great to see you are healing well,” the doctor smirked. “I would have expected no less.”

  “Where the fuck is Mark?”

  “You’re the kind of patient I hate,” the doctor snarled. “You ask so many damn questions. You need to learn how to follow doctor’s orders.”

  “Where’s Mark?”

  The doctor smiled arrogantly into the lens, enjoying his power.

  “Rule number one,” he said, moving the eye of his camera down. “Don’t question the doctor. But I’ll humor you.”

  Veronica saw Mark laying on the ground. His left eye swollen shut. Blood drooled like syrup from his mouth.

  “See when Mark was a little boy,” Patel said, moving the camera toward his own face. “I bet he was one of those kids that would run up and try to pet whatever dog and cat he saw. And some of them let him. And some of them bit. What he has never learned is that sometimes dogs and cats aren’t what they seem. Some of them are tigers and wolves. Some will tear your throat out.”

  “You fucking hurt him and-” Veronica hunched her back on instinct, like a dog waiting to attack.

  “And what?” Patel smirked again, holding up a hand to the camera. “You see that hand? That hand has held many precision instruments and performed the most precise medical procedures. That hand can also be used to administer, well, pain. And death.”

  “What do you want?” Veronica sounded defeated.

  “Drive down to the end of the amusement park,” Patel said. “You’ll see a large tent at the end of the path. Once here you will surrender yourself to the will of Sabine. If not, we’ll kill your friend. Like she told you, two choices here. Easy or hard. You have ten minutes.”

  The screen clicked off.

  Veronica sat in silence, breathing hard.

  Until she heard whistling in the distance.

  And a bullet blasting through her back window.

  Stunned, her instincts took over and she hit the gas pedal.

  Looking in her rearview mirror, she caught a glimpse of a woman dressed in black leather and holding two guns. With a garlic necklace, she looked like she meant business.

  Veronica hit her brakes, reversed and sped backward toward the woman.

  But her assassin seemed to expect the move, shooting down at the wheels of Veronica’s car.

  Veronica didn’t care, she screamed as the car sped toward the woman.

  With cracker jack timing, Darien leaped and rolled over the roof of the oncoming car, sliding over the hood.

  Veronica hit the brakes and waited, the woman now on the pavement in front of her.

  Not stalling a minute longer, she had to get to Mark. Hitting the gas, she twisted the wheel sharp to the left as Darien arose, guns blazing.

  Veronica didn’t look back. Her wrist burned from where the witch touched her as she slammed on the gas leaving her would-be assassin fading away in her rearview mirror.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Veronica’s car decelerated as she reached the end of the boardwalk, nearing a large tent. She had passed through this area before and did not notice anything significant about the tent. But now, a lamp sat in the center, no doubt a place where they once had religious revivals or town hall meetings. A heavy mist descended down as she stopped the car and stepped out.

  Spooked by every little sound, she squinted her eyes in the darkness, the flickering lamp in the distance as her only light source. The sound of a tolling bell could be heard but Veronica couldn’t determine the direction where it was coming from.

  “I’m here,” she said. “You can come out now.”

  She heard a moan, like someone on mourning. Then a rustling of
foliage to her left. Turning, she clenched her fists, ready for an attack.

  She heard a man’s laugh. The kind of laugh of someone that knew something she didn’t. Squinting her eyes into the dense shadows, she saw nothing.

  Suddenly to her right, she heard shuffling of feet.

  Veronica spun around. About thirty feet away, she saw a body on the ground.

  Mark.

  Dashing forward, she rolled her lover over and hoped for any sign of life. His face swollen, eyes shut and mouth bleeding.

  “Mark?”

  “Run,” he whispered. “They’re going to -”

  “Kill you-” Patel said, now standing in front of the lamp. He held up what looked to be a dinner bell. “No, we’re not going to do that. But it may be worse if you don’t cooperate.”

  Veronica stood up. “You fucker!”

  “You never know what you find in these ghost towns,” Patel pointed to the bell. “This is what those old preachers used to use when they called people in for church. Like in those old western movies. Those movies where people get shot.”

  “What the fuck do you want?”

  The doctor tossed the dinner bell down and placed both of his hands in the pockets of his lab coat. “Like I said. You’re one of those patients who asks too many questions. Doctors don’t like that. I never felt comfortable asking people questions when I didn’t already know the answer.”

  Veronica rushed toward the man, fists clenched. She could feel the strength surging within her.

  Pulling out a gun from his pocket, he pointed it at Veronica with a smug smile.

  “Silver bullets,” Patel said, his face grinning with nervous excitement. “All it takes is one.”

  Veronica stopped. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

  From his other pocket, the doctor pulled out a small blood sample in a tube. “Stole this from the lab,” he said.

  Walking back over to the lamp, he held the tube to the light. “You have blue blood. Special breed of vampire. Your bite can kill. Or it can heal.”

  “I don’t want it,” Veronica said, almost breaking down. She looked back at Mark, now motionless on the ground.

  “You’re going to have to come with us,” Patel said, holding up the tube of blood. “Your life for his. We’ve giving him a slow acting poison. Your blood is the one cure.”

  As if on cue, Mark rolled over and began to dry heave.

  “Okay,” Veronica put her head down in defeat. “Just cure him.”

  “We’ll call for help,” Patel said. “Later.”

  With a speed that surprised even herself, Veronica sprang forward toward the doctor.

  “Don’t do it,” Patel said, raising the gun.

  “Shoot,” Veronica said, taunting.

  Blam!

  The doctor’s back arched and he fell over into the lamp which immediately ignited a flame.

  Behind the doctor stood Guinness with a gun pointed, his face turning to terror as the doctor bore his fangs.

  “I eat pigs,” Patel hissed.

  Guinness blasted away with this gun, slowly backing away as Patel marched forward at him. The doctor grabbed ahold of the detective, digging his fingernails into his arms as the gun blasts echoed into the night.

  Veronica didn’t waste any time watching the confrontation play out. She ran back to Mark, dragging him back to her car.

  “Hurry,” she whispered to herself. She had to get away from the Doctor. And whoever that woman was earlier.

  Reaching her car, she pulled the passenger side door open and heaved him into the seat.

  Looking back, she saw the tent engulfed in flames. A horrible, agonized cry of a man rose in the air. The scream was so loud that it caused Veronica to drop her keys in fear.

  “Go,” Mark said, his face wrinkling in pain.

  “Okay,” Veronica picked up her keys and raced over to the driver side.

  Mark let out an anguished scream as he held his stomach.

  Mark’s mother Elaine held Veronica’s hand as she looked at her son on the hospital bed. Tears like tiny crystals dotted her cheeks.

  This woman has been through too much, Veronica thought, feeling the black shadow of shared grief enveloping them both.

  “I lost my glasses,” Elaine said softly.

  “What?” Veronica knew the woman was flustered, still recovering from the initial shock that her son was laying on his deathbed. A shock from being told that there was little they could do but hope and pray.

  “I can’t remember if I left it in the car or what.” Mark’s mother felt around in her pockets but looking up at the ceiling like a woman cursed. “Maybe it’s still in my purse.”

  “It’s okay, we’ll find it later.”

  Elaine’s eyeline never quite reached mark. Her eyes flitted to the side, looking at the counter. The window. She couldn’t bear to look at her unconscious son direct.

  Veronica looked down at Mark. His eyes twitched as he slept.

  She had to find a way. A way to fix things because this had been all of her fault.

  Her worst nightmare come to life, tubes in his mouth and arms. A beeping machine providing a metronome beat to signal the end of his life.

  Only hours before, four nurses worked in unison to deliver IV’s and administer medication. They worked feverishly, following all of the systems and protocols, hands moving across Mark’s body like flippers in a pinball machine. Veronica could only watch as the head nurse furrowed her brow in despair and moved back a step after she read Mark’s lab results. She had found out that Mark’s condition would be irreversible. Something Veronica already knew.

  Unless…

  “He’ll be okay,” Veronica put her right arm around Elaine’s shoulder. The woman felt weak and paper thin. A widow in her fifties soon to lose her entire family.

  “We’re going to be here for a while,” Elaine said. “Maybe you should get some rest.”

  “I’m okay.”

  Veronica caught herself from suggesting that Elaine do the same. She debated as to whether or not she could create a scene outside just so she could get Mark alone.

  “Hi, folks,” a soft-spoken voice came in from behind them. His name was Doctor Shapiro, a slight man who looked too old to still be a doctor. He held his hand out for Elaine to shake but mistimed his approach, having to walk ten feet before reaching her. Then he clasped the stethoscope around his neck tightly, probably a nervous tic that he never grew out of in times like this. “It is probably better if we talk in my office.”

  “I’ll stay here,” Veronica said, a bit too quickly.

  Elaine nodded, following the doctor out. He gave her a wide berth as if she had a force field around her. Elaine looked back at Veronica, anxiety written on her face as she gave her a weak smile out of habit more than anything else.

  Veronica immediately closed the door behind them and placed a chair under the knob. She had little time to waste. A nurse would come in soon, check his vitals although now that had become a mere formality for his medical chart.

  Kneeling beside Mark, she ran her fingers through his matted hair.

  “I know you can hear me,” she said. “I just want to let you know I’m really going to try and make us work. We can be special. Like we always talked about.”

  Veronica felt the hunger hit. But the feeling was different than before. This time she felt a warmth in her chest. A need to give. A need to share. To give life.

  “I’m not going to let you go,” she whispered. “It will be you and me just like we talked about. Lying in bed. Soft music playing. And cats and dogs. I always imagined us surrounded by cats and dogs.”

  Her cheeks blazed hot. A tingling sensation from her head to her toes.

  “I have blue blood,” she whispered, now cradling his head with her left hand. Her eyes a mixture of hesitation and desire, like a virgin bride on her wedding night. “I can heal you.”

  Moving closer to his neck, she could feel her fangs start to protrude.

>   CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Paul had grown up in church. He spent his entire life not knowing who to really pray to, even when he became a preacher. Looking in his rearview mirror, he stared at his image. His eyes were bloodshot, and he rubbed the three day growth of grey stubble. He looked at least ten years older than his real age.

  “How the hell did you get here?” he muttered.

  He had a twenty-mile drive to his church. He usually liked the extended drive as it gave him a chance to clear his head one last time before he gave his sermon. But now he sped through the street, vicious lights of cars passed by him so fast he began to feel dizzy. The muffler on his old car screeched as the speedometer went higher and higher.

  Getting to the church in record time, he rolled up into the driveway, not even bothering to shut the car door after he got out.

  The church door stood ajar and he strode inside, scanning across the empty seats of the pew until he saw Darien sitting on the center of the stage, yawning like a bored schoolgirl.

  The closer he got to her the more he noticed the blood sprinkled on her face and hands.

  “Jesus,” Paul whispered.

  “Evening, Pastor,” Darien stared at him with baleful eyes until dropping down from the stage and motioning for the preacher to follow her.

  “The girl?” the pastor licked his chapped lips, trying to get moisture into his dry mouth.

  Darien shook her head. “I had to let her go,” she said with more than a tinge of regret in her voice. “I saw Sabine.”

  “And?”

  “And she got away.”

  “Maybe we should forget about the girl for now.”

  “She’s a vampire,” Darien said. “And vampires have to die.”

  “And Guinness?”

  “I looked everywhere,” she said stopping in front of a door at the end of the hall. “There’s no way he could have survived. There was a fire. A big one.”

  Paul took out his cell phone from his pocket.