Symbiosis: A Vampire Psycho-Thriller

by Louise Atkins

  Once in, Emily dumped her bag in the sitting room and excused herself to the bathroom. She stared at herself in the mirror. She didn’t look any different. Same dead straight hair, same brown eyes. Same everywhere, except perhaps inside.

  What was she going to do? She had never been in a situation like this before. Simon was acting perfectly – protective, caring, concerned, even managing to keep his opinions to himself more often. Maybe all that they’d been through, the RAGE attack, the Forbidden Lounge, even Rachel in a way, had been necessary to get them here. He was attractive, well-off, older than her.

  Lucas is older than you, some part of her offered. Brain or heart? She wasn’t sure. What of it? She tried to object back. Nothing was going to happen with him. Nothing could. They’d be friends. Nothing more. It was the situation, all the situations in fact since that Friday. They’d all meant that she’d built it into something it wasn’t. Something it couldn’t be.

  That her heart felt wrapped in a bubble of excitement wasn’t real. Easily popped. That she could picture his face so clearly and the surprised expression when she’d asked for another business card meant nothing; the images would fade. That he’d seemed to come to her, in her head, in her dreams when she felt most alone, beyond the comfort of Simon’s touch was just a coincidence, her imagination in control.

  She’d meet him tomorrow though. Of course she would, she’d initiated it, but that would be it. She might not even like him if she spent more time with him. He might turn out to be horrible, dull, irritating.

  He might.

  He might not.

  She screwed up her face at herself in the mirror. What she couldn’t do was make Simon ask any more questions about her evening. The lies she had told were more than enough. Shaking her head, Emily smoothed herself out again and returned to the living room.

  A plate of steaming pasta and a large glass of white wine awaited her approval on a low table in front of the sofa. Simon stood by it, hands on hips, proud.

  ‘All for you.’ He kissed her again and took her hand to lead her to her seat. ‘Tuck in. You must be starving. The wine’s a good one, obviously not GastroChoice. Quite expensive, but worth it. Flavoursome I think.’

  Emily took a mouthful and swallowed quickly; it didn’t taste as good as the wine she’d had earlier.

  ‘I’ll tell you something you’ll be pleased about,’ Simon said, sitting next to her.

  ‘What’s that then?’

  ‘No missing Suckers reported for three days.’

  ‘I suppose you’re disappointed by that.’

  She pushed it further, despite his protest and the knowledge that she was being deliberately provocative and, if she was honest, unfair.

  ‘I bet you are. No new news. No reduction in the vampire population.’

  ‘That’s a bit harsh, Emily.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘Yes. I wish I hadn’t told you now.’

  Emily turned her attention to her food. Took a couple of mouthfuls and then allowed the guilt that was building inside her to choose her words:

  ‘Sorry.’ She paused, indicated her plate. ‘This is lovely. Thanks.’

  ‘No problem.’

  Once she’d finished eating, they settled back to watch the film. Emily had seen it before, but as Simon had obviously gone to the effort of finding something he thought she’d like, she didn’t say anything.

  About halfway through, Emily realised he was watching her, rather than the screen. She turned to him with suspicion-narrowed eyes. He couldn’t know where she’d been this evening. He couldn’t, could he?

  ‘What?’ she tried warily.

  He looked surprised.

  ‘What do you mean – what?’

  ‘You keep looking at me, like you want to say something.’ Go carefully, her brain warned.

  ‘Do I?’

  ‘Yes, you know you do. Whatever it is, just say it. Please.’

  ‘It’s just that I expected you to be, well, different tonight, that’s all.’

  ‘Different? How?’ She spoke slowly, aware her words might lead to a demand for the truth.

  ‘Upset I guess, what with going for the interview …’

  Emily released her breath and put her head in her hands, enjoyed the cover her hair gave her. Simon hugged her to him. She went willingly enough, tried to employ some neutrality to capture the feel of his arms around her. To really take in what it felt like.

  She pulled away again. Twirled a strand of hair around her finger. She shrugged.

  ‘I don’t know. My head’s just a bit of a mess.’ She offered up a half smile. ‘It was awful going in there, knowing I was going to have to go through it all yet again. I was scared I suppose.’

  ‘It is pretty intimidating.’ Simon’s hand was warm, smoothing her shoulders.

  ‘But, I don’t know, I’ve told it so many times now, maybe I’m just numb. It feels like I’m just telling a story, with a character called Emily in it. I’m fed up of crying in front of other people too. Fed up of having to relive it. For the Security Forces, the paper and …’ she stopped. Was she going to admit to the images that sleep, or lack of it, brought on?

  ‘And?’ he prompted her.

  ‘And …’ she stopped. Trapped feelings inside her. ‘And I’m probably just relieved it’s over with. Maybe that’s why I’m different. I knew I had to go to Security Forces House, it’s been hanging over me. So I guess I’m just relieved. Yes. That’s it.’

  ‘Come here.’

  He held her to him again. Emily shut her eyes tight. She hadn’t lied. She was relieved.

  She pulled away from Simon as he said,

  ‘I’m just going to take the plates out. Might open another bottle.’

  As soon as Simon, and the dirty dishes were safely in the kitchen, Emily reached for her phone, like a child stealing sweets. She looked at it in her bag, just in case.

  A tiny silver envelope glowed from the screen at her. A fountain of expectation exploded inside her head, her stomach and shook the fingers that gripped the phone. She tried to tame it. It might not be from him. It might be from Sadie. From anyone. Trembling fingers pushed the button to find out.

  Lucas. She had saved his number to her phone on the tram after she’d finished speaking to Simon. Done it automatically as if it had been any ordinary number.

  ‘Sorry for sending a message rather than calling. It’s late. I hope you get this in time. I have a proposal for you. About meeting up again. If you still want to. No worries if you’re busy.’

  She had to read it a few times. Wanted to read it over and over. It was him. It was still on.

  Glancing towards the kitchen, she heard Simon washing up. Amazed that she had enough control over her fingers and brain to compose a reply, she wrote:

  ‘Of course I still want to meet you. What are you suggesting?’

  Was that enough? Too brief? Too cool? Too enthusiastic? She realised she had no idea and sent it anyway.

  ‘Glad you still want to. Going to suggest two meetings.’ Her heart flipped and she greedily read more. ‘You pick one. I pick one. What do you think?’

  How much time did she have until Simon finished washing up? Not much longer. She eyed the kitchen door.

  ‘Excellent. Who picks first?’

  She sent the message. Just in time. She threw the phone back in her bag. Simon emerged from the kitchen.

  ‘Do you want some tea? Probably better than alcohol. You look shattered.’

  She nodded thanks. Should she risk another look at her phone? She could always say it was Sadie. She opened the bag, checked the display. Nothing. She tried not to feel crushed. He’d send her a message later.

  Simon returned with two cups and Emily tried to settle back to watch the film. She sat almost perfectly still to disguise her whirring mind from Simon. If she had to pick first, where could they go? Somewhere public, lots of people; she really didn’t know him after all. But two meetings…

  Simon dropped his hand onto
her thigh, caressed her gently. She deliberately didn’t look at him, but it did ground her. This wasn’t going to be a date. It wasn’t, and it couldn’t be. She was going to meet him, no doubt about that, but it was going to be as friends. No chance of anything else. And what sort of things did she do with her friends? She ran through a number of options, until she hit on one that felt perfect.

  The film ended. Simon announced it was bedtime. When he went to the bathroom, Emily checked her phone. She would say she was turning it off if he caught her. Still nothing. Maybe she’d been too keen. Had put him off. She heaved a sigh, sensed Simon’s return and headed to the bathroom herself.

  Thirty Eight

  Rachel had woken her. This time the body was the same, but in the vision-dream, Emily had seen her own hand stretch out, caress Rachel’s too pale face. Her fingers slid to the blood trails down Rachel’s neck. They were sticky. Spilt glue. She could see the dark patterns on her fingers as she raised them to her face. As Emily studied them, she saw, just beyond her tight finger focus, Rachel’s eyes slowly open. Saw the corpse nod at her. It knew what she was about to do. And approved. Emily felt her own stomach twist in both protest and anticipation. She brought her fingers in closer. The sharp scent of the blood ripped at her. Her mouth fell open, fingers closer now, closer. Saliva could not satisfy. She had to taste it.

  Then she’d woken, scream trapped inside. Ragged breathing proof at least she was here, alive. And dreaming. Only dreaming. Paralysed by her nightmare, by her disgust and loathing. She’d wanted to get up, shudder it away. Put all the lights on. But she hadn’t. She’d lain there. Her first risk of a move had been to turn to see the alarm clock on Simon’s side of the bed.

  And it had rewarded her with the knowledge that she had managed to sleep for precisely four hours and eight minutes. The tiredness she had initially feigned to put off Simon’s advances had quickly become genuine and she had fallen asleep easily.

  Now, summer-breeze gentle, she rose. The last thing she needed was to wake Simon and so have to offer more assurances that there was nothing wrong.

  She negotiated her way across the living room, to the hall and into the bathroom with only a minimum of bumps. Whether starting to know her way around Simon’s flat was a good thing or a bad thing – she wasn’t sure.

  Turning the tap on only a trickle, she wet her hands and dragged them over her face. For the second time that evening she studied herself in the mirror. The shadows thrown by the light above her chiselled her face into contours she hardly recognised. What was happening to her?

  She shook her head. The water had helped – it was chasing away the nightmare, diminishing its power over her. You couldn’t control what you dreamt. Just brain messages trying out different pathways in her head. Not under any sort of influence. There was nothing to be read into it. Nothing. Her head was still a mess, that much was obvious. And was it that surprising given everything that she’d had to go through at Security Forces House?

  One thing she was sure of was that she was glad she’d avoided sex with Simon. The memory of Lucas was too close for that. After tomorrow had proved that she and Lucas were to be nothing more than friends, after she’d made it be nothing more than that she corrected, then she could work out what to do about Simon.

  Not that there was even any guarantee that tomorrow, today, later even, she reminded herself, was actually going to happen. She smiled ruefully at her reflection in the mirror once more. The smile chased away the shadows and she looked herself once more. What had she expected really? They were strangers, joined only by a terrible event. Nothing more. And she’d practically forced this meeting on him. It didn’t mean anything that he’d suggested two.

  Maybe he’d had second thoughts when he’d got her last message. Maybe Lucas already had a girlfriend. No reason why not. He was certainly attractive. Disappointment tugged her heart down once more. Rationality tried to cut the anchor chain – if he had a girlfriend, then they could only be friends and surely that was better? Her heart found no consolation there, although some deep down part of her offered a balloon of hope that she was almost too ashamed to acknowledge: If they were both seeing other people – did that make anything that might happen between them more balanced? Would she feel any less guilty if they were both hurting other people?

  She snapped the light out and shut the bathroom door, forcing the sudden surge of irrational anger away before it made her slam the door instead. She was going back to bed. She was going to lie, with her eyes closed until she either went back to sleep or it was morning. She was not going to think about this anymore.

  Her bag was on the sofa. She knew that was where she had left it. Knew too as she crossed the room that she was going to reach inside, search out her phone and check for messages. She was a traitor to her own resolve already.

  There it was. She blinked her eyes. The phone display and the innocent message icon seemed so very bright in the darkness. She almost didn’t want to read it. Suppose it was calling their meeting off? Her heart thudded as she clicked to read the message.

  ‘Definitely ladies first.’

  How to reply? Tell him her plan? No. It might put him off if he knew. She liked her idea. It was perfect for people who were just, and only, going to be friends. And, it was perfect because it was something Simon would never, ever do.

  ‘If you’re sure …’ She sent her reply.

  His message had actually only arrived ten minutes ago. He certainly was out late. Was that a good thing her brain protested? She had no time to ponder on that as another silver envelope appeared.

  ‘Sorry if I woke you.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I was already awake,’ Emily sent, sitting now on the sofa, pulling her legs up under her. He was glad she could make it. ‘Looking forward to tomorrow. Meet me at the central tram stop at 3.00pm’ she added and sent it. Would he reply to that one? It seemed he would.

  ‘Me too. See you tomorrow.’

  Emily crept back to bed. She deliberately didn’t look at Simon and closed her eyes and savoured the play of emotions. How was she going to sleep now? She wasn’t sure, but she had to, otherwise three o clock in the afternoon would feel like forever away.

  *

  She thought she’d made it – safely out of bed, round to her pile of clothes – without waking him. It was all so clear in her head. Leave a note. Brief, functional and only vague enough not to lie and not to prompt questions.

  ‘And where are you going?’ Simon rolled over with the question and caught her hand as she was bending to retrieve her shoes.

  ‘Oh hi. Morning. I’ve got to go.’

  ‘Now? It’s still early.’

  ‘It’s nine o’clock.’ She had lain still a long time after she actually woke. Lain and tried to control the imagination that was too easily spinning this meeting with Lucas into sugar spun candy floss one moment and the biggest betrayal of human kind the next.

  ‘That’s early,’ Simon protested, propping himself up on one arm.

  ‘I’ve got a lot to do today.’ Don’t let him ask what, she mentally begged.

  ‘Like what?’

  Emily dropped his hand and bent to put on her boots.

  ‘I’m meeting someone.’ Her brain offered her a point for honesty.

  ‘Ok. I give in. I guess a shopping trip with Sadie to whatever part of the Retail District you’ve got planned would need some serious time.’

  ‘And I’ve got to get home and shower and change.’

  ‘I know I can’t compete there. I couldn’t possibly come between you two and shops.’

  ‘You are more than welcome to come with us.’ Fortunately, Emily could guarantee his answer to that. She hoped.

  ‘No. I’ll pass on that one. I’ll see you tonight though.’

  It wasn’t even a question Emily realised. And, she supposed, under normal circumstances, probably a fair assumption to make.

  ‘Actually I might be staying over at Sadie’s. A few of us might get together there. Film, w
ine, talking about shopping, hair, make-up, the usual.’ She closed her mouth before it could add any further embellishments that she might be unable to remember under cross-examination.

  ‘Suit yourself. I expect I’ll go out then. Give someone a call. See who’s out.’

  Emily had both her boots on now and had quickly scanned to check she had everything.

  ‘Would you like a cup of tea before I go?’ She could do that at least.

  ‘Thanks, but no. Without you giving me a good reason to stay in bed, I might as well get up.’

  He insisted on seeing her out. Planted a lingering kiss on her lips on the door step; no doubt designed to dissuade her from staying over at Sadie’s.

  ‘Have a great time,’ he said, leaning over to kiss her again.

  ‘I will.’

  ‘See you tomorrow. I’ll give you a call later.’

  ‘No. I’ll call you.’ Her reply was obviously a little too quick, a little too adamant.

  ‘Worried I might interrupt a vital purchase?’

  ‘No. No. Nothing like that. I’ll just call you, that’s all.’

  He finally released her from the circle of his arms. As she headed towards the lift, she began to wonder if she’d aroused his suspicions, especially about the phone call.

  In the seconds it took the lift to reach the ground, she had persuaded herself that it didn’t matter. It was done. Too late. She was meeting Lucas. As she stepped into the grey drizzle of the morning, and shrugged off a heart made heavy by lies, she realised that with each step that took her away from Simon’s flat, she felt more and more free.

  Thirty Nine

  ‘This begins with tea and cake and ends possibly in wine.’ She’d rehearsed the line over and over in her head as she’d taken great effort to look casual for their ‘not-date’ as she was referring to it in her head.

  ‘Sounds great, but I might have to forgo the glass of wine at the end. My boss has called me into work at seven. Meeting with a big, big client. Vampire. I tried to get out of it, but no good. I’m sorry. I really am.’