Creature of the Night

by Anne Stinnett

  “He is strong,” Delia said. “For a human.”

  Edmund sneered. “For a human, indeed.”

  “I see someone is completely relaxed,” Chaz said. Ollie had woken up briefly, addressed his situation, and gone right back to sleep. Chaz identified Ollie for the crowd.

  “Wake him up! Wake him up! Wake him up!”

  Chaz leaped to the top of Ollie’s coffin and rattled the contents. “Five more minutes,” Ollie mumbled.

  Chaz steeled himself to endure an uneventful night.

  This is awesome, Brett thought. He had already decided he would sleep in a coffin every night once he was a vampire. It would have to be bigger though. There was plenty of room for one person to be comfortable if you weren’t claustrophobic like the dude down the line, but Brett planned on having company. He would have something made custom. It would have room for Brett and several flexible young ladies to cavort in comfort. Creature of the Night! Whoo!

  Portia had gotten tired of performing for an audience that possibly couldn’t even see her. Instead, she practiced her Awakening. She would be lying peaceful and lifeless, her hands folded beautifully over her heart, and then her eyes would open and she would be reborn, ageless and mighty. She couldn’t work out whether her eyes would pop open all at once or languidly, taking in the world that would seem brand new, savoring each tiny increment. She parted her lips slightly and tried again.

  “And that,” Chaz said gesturing to Portia’s monitor, “is why we don’t tell them about the cameras.”

  Jeff was grateful to be lying in the dark. He didn’t know or care whether he was being observed. At this moment, the fact he didn’t have to deal with anything that had come out of another person was enough. At least I tried. Who cares? Everyone tried. But only I puked. Not being able to drink blood might be a deal breaker; although, it’s probably more appealing after the change. He lay quietly with his arms crossed over his chest and replayed his embarrassment over and over. The audience mostly ignored him, and Jeff would have been glad to know it.

  Celeste remained unimpressed. She had put everything she had into getting here, and here sucked. And not in the literal vampy way she’d anticipated. Celeste had been dreaming of fangs for a long time, fangs that were not her own, fangs that would bring her peace. Still, this was peaceful enough for now. She could ignore the hum generated by the throng of thousands that was the audience and enjoy being alone in the dark. Celeste liked her coffin. It would probably be even better when it was for real.

  Lola was fuming. Not at the incarceration, but at the duping that had been employed to get them there. Anyone who was too cowardly to climb in and pull the lid shut behind them shouldn’t be here. It wasn’t a big fucking deal to stay put when you had no choice. She would have shown everyone she didn’t flinch if she had the chance, and she would have pointed out that perhaps a more active demonstration of their worth would be appropriate. But there would be other opportunities. In the meantime, she would occupy herself.

  “Chaz, darling,” Delia said just as Lola achieved a satisfying rhythm. “Would you mind?”

  The Voice and Little P sat in the high corner office and watched Lola in her coffin. The Voice tilted his head and leaned closer to the screen. “Is that what you told her to do?”

  “Not exactly,” Little P admitted. “She put a personal spin on the instructions.”

  “Numbers?”

  “Strong. And counting.”

  “Until the censors step in, leave her to it,” the Voice commanded Chaz. “The live SM content is unbelievable.”

  Onstage, Chaz checked the monitor. Across one of the screens, various social media updates posted by fans scrolled.

  “You can’t see much,” he said to Delia. “She hasn’t taken her pants off.”

  “Yes, but what do the censors say?” Delia smiled. “I find it hard to believe the parental warnings mention sexual situations.”

  The audience perked up at the mention of sexual situations. Cyri’s dad thought about covering her eyes, but then Delia stretched.

  There was a pause during which Chaz tensed for action, the audience craned their necks, and Lola carried on.

  Finally, Riley and Kiley appeared from backstage. They spoke to Chaz in perfect unison. “The censors say to make her stop.”

  Chaz swore and sprang onto Lola’s coffin. He banged on the lid and told her to get her hand out of her fucking pants. “There are children watching.” Chaz pitched his voice so Lola could hear, and hopefully the audience could not. Fucking humans.

  “At least it is only the one,” Nodin said.

  “So far.” Delia smiled to herself. Humans.

  Two down, Stewart told himself. Technically, the coffin challenge was still happening, but Stewart knew he’d be fine. He’d slept in worse places. Although, he should try to stay awake. He’d heard the audience chanting a while back, and he’d gathered they were expected to endure their incarceration in wakefulness. It was tough, after such a big week, not to relax into the satin pillow and drift off. To stay awake, Stewart crooned the songs he had sung to his children when they were babies. Audrey would later roll her eyes in real embarrassment, but Stewart would never know.

  Madeline was trying to talk herself down. She was clenching her fists so tightly; she had already drawn blood from her palms. She wasn’t afraid of dying so much as she was of living forever in this tiny box. That couldn’t happen. She was meant for more. Her parents always said so. They said God had a plan for Madeline. Madeline hoped this wasn’t the whole of it. After a while, she prayed. Please. I’m sorry. I never, ever worshiped Satan no matter what my parents thought. But you know. You know. Save me.

  Madeline didn’t realize it, but it wasn’t long before the wailing in her head started to flow from her lips.

  “These people are whack jobs,” Dylan said, his voice full of admiration. At his side, Joey wagged his tail. Dylan was sure the wag indicated agreement.

  “Said the guy conversing with a cocker spaniel,” Bekka said.

  Dylan rolled his eyes at the dog who wagged again, this time demonstrating sympathy for his best friend with the pesky sister. Bekka didn’t understand Joey’s emotional range.

  “Fine. Who’s a whack job?” Bekka perched on the arm of the sofa since Dylan and Joey were taking up the rest.

  “Everybody,” Dylan said. He turned up the volume in an attempt to drown out his sister’s voice then reached for the bag of chips she was holding. “Give me some of those.”

  “Who exactly are you talking about?” Bekka demanded. “The vampires?”

  “No. The people in the coffins,” Dylan explained. “It’s a challenge.”

  “Sounds really difficult,” Bekka said. She was naturally inclined to be scornful of anything her little brother admired.

  “Hey, it is for the claustrophobic guy,” Dylan said. “And some girl was crying. Joey had to go outside, so I’m not sure why.”

  “Who’s that guy?” Bekka said, nudging Dylan and Joey along the couch so she could make herself more comfortable. “He’s totally fuckable.”

  “Gross. He’s the host, and he’s probably like a thousand years old.”

  “Hmmm. Well, he looks like he’s twenty-two.” Bekka considered. “Maybe being a vampire isn’t completely stupid after all.”

  “And we’re back,” Chaz said. “It was a long night for the contestants and, I know, for some of you who stayed up all night watching them squirm.”

  “Squirm and scream and tear the flesh from their fingers in an attempt to escape,” Nodin said.

  “A big thank you to our esteemed judge, Nodin, for the recap,” Chaz said.

  “Always happy to assist,” Nodin said, not recognizing the sarcasm.

  “We have a very special surprise for you before we get started. Please give the best hello ever to special guest judge, Vlad the Impaler!”

  It was a cheer to end all cheers. Everyone, even those who weren't heavily into vampire lore, had heard of Vlad. Nodin and
Edmund looked a bit sour. Neither clapped, of course. A bat winged easily around above the stage. The lower it got, the bigger it looked. When it finally came to rest on the fourth throne, everyone could see it was the size of a raven. The throne was gold and adorned with blood diamonds as was required by Vlad’s contract. Riley and Kiley had been forced to haul it out from backstage because the humans couldn’t lift it and had broken two cranes in their various attempts.

  Everyone was watching the gigantic fucking bat, and nobody was breathing much. Later, every human there would swear they blinked and opened their eyes to find Vlad sitting on the throne like he’d been there all night.

  A fresh bout of cheers broke out; someone started chanting followed by someone else then all their neighbors until shortly the entire audience was chanting, “Im–pa–ler! Im–pa–ler! Im–pa–ler!”

  “Let’s get back to it!” Chaz bellowed. “About an hour ago, the contestants were released from their coffins and given the opportunity to freshen up. Those who damaged themselves received first aid. They will be rejoining us momentarily for the judge’s recap.” As though they hadn’t all had to live through it. “In the meantime, we have questions and comments from viewers.”

  The questions were selected, by someone on the production staff, from the cyber storm of pleas for attention that accompanied each show. Chaz was given the questions cold to promote an authentic reaction. Someday, Chaz was going to drain the production staff. Or at least, a few key underlings.

  “This is from Kayla, in Southampton, New York.” Chaz read the question aloud as it appeared on the monitor beneath Kayla’s selfie.

  “I don’t understand how you can use real human blood. Isn’t that illegal?”

  “Well, Kayla,” Chaz said. “I won’t say you asked a stupid question. However, it is a question to which you would know the answer if you’d ever once watched the news or checked Wikipedia. Since you, and I’m sure many other viewers, are too busy for reading, I’ll explain. Thanks to the Supreme Court’s decision in Swadle vs. the Board of Mental Health and Supervision, people have the right to do whatever they want with their bodies.

  “For example, they can donate a bit of blood for the show or submit to being drained to death for the pleasure of a vampire. Humans have these rights regardless of their state of mental competence. Unrelated to our show, the Swadle ruling is also why you now have unrestricted access to any drug you desire and why doctor performed suicide is legal in all fifty-one states. Fun fact: all of the blood the contestants drank last night was donated by members of our studio audience.”

  “He already said that,” Cyri said.

  “Drink our blood! Drink our blood! Drink our blood!” Cyri’s dad clapped and chanted along with the rest of the audience.

  Please, Cyri thought. Drink all of it.

  Before Chaz could quiet them down, there was a scream from the audience. Chaz saw Vlad was not on his throne because he had popped into the audience and sunk his fangs into a little redhead. He hadn’t even had the decency to go for the neck. Vlad had picked the girl up, and his head was buried between her thighs. While she shrieked, her mother beat at Vlad’s back with her purse. It looked like Vlad was doing something entirely different to the girl until you factored in her reaction. Chaz launched himself toward Vlad and arrived to find Delia already there, wrenching Vlad’s head from beneath the girl’s skirt. Chaz grabbed the mother’s flailing purse arm and caught her around the waist.

  Nodin had roused himself to take charge of the girl while Delia hauled Vlad back to the altar and deposited him on his throne.

  “The taste from the thigh is so dark, so sweet,” Vlad said. Chaz thought he was speaking only to Delia, but, of course, everyone could hear. “Neck, bah. She begged me to drink, did you not hear?”

  “They were just participating in the show,” Delia said. “Not volunteering to be dinner. Think of them like the chorus in the old plays. Part of the performance, not for eating.”

  “I always ate from the chorus,” Vlad said. “They were the best part of the theater and easily replaceable. It is such a scandal when you eat Oedipus or Electra. No one ever misses one or two from the chorus.”

  Delia had taken Nodin’s seat putting her next to Vlad. She was back to looking serene and fragile, but one hand rested on Vlad’s arm, and Chaz had total faith in her ability to restrain him.

  “Have you had enough for now?” Chaz said. There was no point in trying to explain the niceties of eating modern humans to a vampire of Vlad’s age and condition.

  Vlad waved a hand, acknowledging his current state of satiation. Nodin popped back to the altar.

  “That was exciting, wasn’t it?” Chaz said, and the crowd roared in agreement. The girl and her mother cheered along with everyone else. The girl even looked proud to have been chosen as a snack. “Let’s take a look at what one more viewer had to say. His name is Cody, and he’s calling from Indio, California.”

  “Love the show. But it needs some nudity.”

  Chaz sighed, a big exasperated one for the benefit of the audience. “Glad to hear you love the show, Cody, but we do have standards of decency. If nudity is what you’re looking for, flip over to the Penthouse channel. After our show, of course. Contestants, come on out!

  The twelve would be vampires filed out in various states ranging from exuberant to devastated and lined up facing the audience and judges.

  The crowd whispered excitedly, and the judges sat. The contestants stood awaiting judgment. Eventually, the crowd abandoned their speculations and fidgeting and settled into silence.

  Delia spoke. “Some of you did well, some of you behaved shamefully. And while the goal was to spend the night in a coffin without panicking, we do not feel that those of you who went to sleep earned the same respect as those who endured wakefully.”

  Ollie and Stewart looked abashed.

  “However, those who slept were more impressive than those who pissed themselves with fear,” Edmund said.

  “Humans always piss themselves,” Vlad said.

  “I’m claustrophobic,” Kannon said. “I was diagnosed as a child.”

  “No one cares about your acceptance of your infirmity,” Edmund said. “And no one cares why little dancers are afraid of the dark.”

  “So unkind, Edmund,” Delia said. “Although, not wrong.”

  “Right now, we’re going to see which contestants you, our beloved audience, voted to eliminate from the competition. Girls, the envelope, please.”

  Riley and Kiley glided out bearing a silk envelope between them. Chaz nodded solemnly as they placed it in his hand, then he made sure to open it with proper panache.

  “Okay. Because, by an overwhelming majority, the audience thinks you’re a pussy, they have voted to eliminate you, Kannon.”

  “I’m—”

  “Claustrophobic,” Chaz interrupted. “We know. Sharing your shame, chosen for elimination by the audience for being ‘a ginormous slut,’—which, by the way, is trending hashtag ‘ginormous slut’— is Lola.”

  “The sisterhood at work,” Delia said. “We are grateful for your input. Now for our conclusions. It was a disappointing showing by some of you, but we must make eliminations, and you have made it easy this time.”

  “It is always easy to eliminate,” Edmund said.

  “Stewart and Ollie,” Chaz said. “We have addressed the fact you slept through the challenge, but neither of you panicked. Step back, you made it to round two.”

  Ollie grinned, bowed his head, and stepped back. Stewart waved to the camera, hoping his kids would understand he was waving to them, and joined Ollie behind the others.

  “As for Lola,” Delia said, “you have brought shame to the show and yourself.”

  “No more shame than any other human,” Edmund said.

  “Would you mind terribly not saying things like that aloud?” Delia asked.

  “For you,” Edmund said. “I will make the attempt.” Of course, he couldn’t.

  �
�Do you have anything to say about your behavior, Lola?” Nodin said.

  “Just that everybody does it, and it’s perfectly natural,” Lola said. “And I didn’t know there was a camera in there.”

  Delia snickered. Nodin sighed.

  “What a lucky thing you have no one who would be shamed by your behavior,” Edmund said. “No children, for example.”

  Amen, Cyri thought.

  Lola’s pause was so brief it went almost unnoticed. “Nope. No children.”

  “Indeed,” Edmund said.

  “You may step back,” Nodin said. “But please keep in mind some things are just not done on television.”

  Lola resumed her smile and thrust a triumphant fist into the air. She joined Stewart and Ollie behind the others.

  “Emily, good job. You worked it out. You made all reasonable attempts to escape and then decided that your challenge was to make it through the night where you were. Because of that you are moving on to the next challenge.”

  The contestants still in the front row began to look worried.

  “Donovan, you behaved like a—”

  “Typical human?” Edmund suggested.

  “Barbarian,” Nodin finished. “We suggest you rethink how you comport yourself in the future. We will not have in our ranks one who behaves thus.”

  “However,” Delia added, “you may step back. Brett, you accepted your confinement if not gracefully, then at least gleefully. You may step back.”

  “Thank you,” Brett said. “And I just want to say, I completely agree. Humans are nothing compared to you guys. I want to be more. I’m going to do everything I can to be worthy.”

  “We are not getting stuck with that one,” Nodin said.

  “We can’t decide during the first challenge,” Delia rebuked.

  “But you agree?”

  “Obviously.”

  “Portia, thank you for the entertainment,” Delia said. “Although, your Eleanor was nothing like the friend I knew.”

  “I do not understand your fascination with pretending to be an old one,” Nodin said.

  “I like to play the part,” Delia told him. “I’ve missed so much.”