Creature of the Night

by Anne Stinnett

  “You got used to those,” Chaz told her, and she nodded.

  Marv doled out two more shots from the bottle of tequila on the coffee table and offered Ginger the saltshaker. “You’ve been watching this for how long?”

  “Since the first season,” Ginger said. She licked the inside of her wrist and salted it liberally. “Years. What did you think?”

  Marv thought if Ginger’s lips were less full or her tits not as perky, he’d be having second thoughts about his plans to get her naked. “I loved it,” Marv told her tapping her glass with his.

  “A few more things,” Chaz said. “First, we’re going to take a look at some of the highlights of our fallen contestants. When the contestants were chosen, each was asked to give us their last words in case there wasn’t time later on.”

  The audience chuckled.

  “Those last words will be what you see at the end of each montage. Enjoy their final words of wisdom. Or whatever.”

  The music swelled, and a small montage of Donovan began to play across the screens. There was a picture of Donovan as a child holding a cat who seemed to be trying to escape. A couple’s picture of Donovan taken at a school dance. A shot of Donovan covered in his own blood after the escape of his donor. The music faded away, and Donovan’s video played. “If you think I’m going to die, you can go fuck yourself. The world is going to be my bitch!”

  “Perhaps he was referring to another world,” Edmund said.

  “The look on his face when Emily kills him is priceless,” Delia said.

  “It was the best moment of the season,” Edmund said.

  The music faded, and the montage ended with a shot of Donovan holding a football, arm back, preparing to pass. Shots of Celeste replaced Donovan onscreen. She appeared as a cherub in pigtails then an awkward adolescent with a hint of sullen. In some of the later pictures, scars could be seen traveling Celeste’s arms in opposition to whatever smile she had pasted on her face. “Thank you all for being a part of my journey.”

  “She came wanting to die, that one,” Edmund said.

  “Yes, she did.” Delia tapped her fingers on her throne.

  “You feel sympathy because she changed her mind?”

  “No. I wonder if she ever did change her mind,” Delia said.

  Kannon replaced Celeste. The crowd cheered for immortalized moments of two-eyed Kannon: there he was taking his first bath, riding his first bike, drinking a wine cooler the night he would first have sex with his math tutor.

  “I didn’t know he had been a Boy Scout,” Delia said as a picture of young uniformed Kannon flashed on the screens.

  “Isn’t their motto ‘Be Prepared?’” Nodin asked.

  Cyri snorted.

  “Don’t be insensitive, honey,” her father said.

  The crowd cheered even harder for one-eyed Kannon and his bloody eye socket. “I guess I’d want to say to my parents I’m sorry I disappointed you again.”

  “That one experienced true growth,” Delia’s attention was focused on Kannon’s laughing image. “It’s almost a shame.”

  “Seriously?” Nodin wondered.

  Delia shrugged. “I thought someone should say something.”

  Now, Cassie’s image smiled down. “If I die, I guess I’d need to apologize to my family for letting my brother die for nothing. So, I refuse to believe it will come to that.” Even as a child, her smile had been joyous, a smile that managed to wipe away the memory of her suffering and defeat.

  “Refusing to believe is always the best way,” Nodin said.

  Delia rolled her eyes. “Were you so eager to believe in your imminent death before your change?”

  “I did like the dancer,” Delia said aloud.

  Through pictures, Cassie grew to adulthood as the audience adored her. The images of Cassie clawing her way out of the coals juxtaposed with a close-up of Lola hacking away at her neck provoked a thunderous, if slightly mixed, reaction.

  “Rudyard Kipling knew of what he spoke,” Nodin said.

  “Yes,” Delia said. “He did indeed.”

  “Who is Rudyard Kipling?” Vlad asked.

  “He was a writer,” Nodin said. “He said the female of the species is more deadly than the male.”

  “I don’t know him,” Vlad said. “Or did I eat him?”

  “He’s dead,” Nodin told Vlad. “He was much younger, so no. I don’t believe you ate him.”

  “At least they’re together now,” Cyri’s dad said. He wrapped an arm around her for a comforting hug she could have done without. She wondered if Rudyard Kipling had been eaten.

  “As always,” Chaz said. “Prints or posters are available for order on the Creature of the Night website. That beheading shot is a thing of beauty, and it is available now along with a ton of other shit you must have.”

  “There were no beheadings last season,” Edmund said.

  “I think you might be right.” Delia considered. “I cannot recall.”

  “You cannot recall whether there was a beheading last season?” Nodin lifted his eyebrows. The audience chuckled.

  “You’re ruining it,” Delia said.

  “She is attempting to give the impression that things are so exciting here it becomes impossible to keep an exact tally of how many heads have been abruptly severed from their host.”

  “I remember so many beheadings,” Delia said. “The difficulty is placing them in their proper time and space.”

  “First world problems,” Chaz said.

  “And perhaps third,” Edmund noted.

  Cassie with a head was back onscreen, smiling and waving. Her clip ended with a few seconds of Cassie dancing, the frame freezing on a shot of Cassie mid-leap with pointed toes and graceful arms as close to flying as she had ever come.

  “Where is the chronology?” Nodin said.

  Lola’s childhood self had been ragtag. In one childhood photo, both front teeth had gone AWOL, and she wore an improbable dress with a pair of jeans underneath. It was impossible to tell whether she had been allowed to dress herself as a matter of self-expression or because of a lack of parental care. This uncertainty made the picture both sad and adorable.

  Teenaged Lola had been the kind of girl mothers warned their sons about while those sons could think of nothing else. That Lola had already possessed the eyes of a forty-year-old. Of course, no pictures of Lola engaging in self-abuse could be shown, but a shot of Chaz beating on the lid of her coffin to stop her was included. The crowd tittered.

  The picture of Cassie having her head sawed off by Lola reappeared, but now it was a picture of Lola. “Last words? Fuck that. I’ll give you my winning speech instead. I told you assholes I was going to win this thing! Now bow the fuck down, bitches! Lola’s ready for eternity.”

  “Didn’t someone bet on that one?” Delia said all innocence. “I believe I am owed virgins.”

  “You’ll get them,” Nodin sighed. He didn’t know what he had been thinking risking so many. This sort of thing always happened when he tried to be charismatic.

  Jeff had been a cute kid with a love of Halloween. There, he was dressed as Superman, then as a bunny, and inevitably as a vampire. His plastic fangs and bloody chin did nothing to distract from his open smile.

  Edmund grumbled at the sight of the fangs.

  “He did go on to march for vampire rights,” Delia said.

  “As if I need or desire anything that could be granted by humans,” Edmund said.

  Delia snorted gently. “You mean besides your salary?”

  Grown up Jeff threw his cap at his college commencement ceremony. Bearded Jeff sported a big grin while he posed with a largish and quite dead fish. The final shot of Jeff showed him throwing up blood.

  Then there he was again, smiling as he said a goodbye he never thought would be shared. “I know vampires like to maintain their image, but I’m not worried. I’ve come to believe they’re a lot kinder and gentler than most people think.”

  To the surprise of everyone, Brett h
ad been a great looking child. Things didn’t go wrong until some point between the tee ball championship and First Communion.

  And then there was headgear, Emily thought when she saw Brett’s middle school picture. No wonder.

  Brett’s headgear and braces gave way to images of a skinny teenager with pimples and beautiful teeth. According to his prom pic, Brett had gone alone. He shone with exuberance in early stills from the show, and his voice was gleeful in the clip. “I’m so excited. I feel like I’ve already won. But my imaginary last words for the world are… wait for it… wait for it… just kidding. Because I just can’t imagine dying. I just don’t see it.”

  Portia had been in tap shoes at three. In her seventh birthday photo, she was wearing an ornate princess dress and a tiara. Preteen Portia rehearsed a production of what looked to be Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Portia’s wedding dress had resembled her princess dress in all but color. Shots from the show included Portia smacking her donor in the third challenge and Portia standing over Landon, frozen in the photo as she had been during the challenge. “If I must have a legacy so soon, I hope it will be this: that my death will be a wake-up call for Hollywood. That they will realize older female actors are still valuable and desirable. I want the world to know those of us in our late twenties still have a lot of talent to offer the industry.”

  “Wasn’t she in her early thirties?” Chaz said.

  “If she was a day,” Delia, who had died in her late teens, agreed.

  Madeline had been a redheaded cherub. Her green eyes were bright with happiness in her early photos; apparently, the world had conspired successfully to keep the truth from young Madeline about what a dark and depressing place it was.

  By high school, Madeline had found the truth behind that conspiracy. Madeline scowled out from different pictures taken in different places, now always appearing in her signature Goth getup. The photo of Madeline in her Creature of the Night sweater set flashed onto the screens, just before one of her dead yet comfortably attired in her own clothes. “I can’t die. I am the one. I know. So, I’m excited. I can’t wait. And I think, Mom and Dad, when you see who I am, you’ll finally understand.”

  Ollie as a child brought to mind dirt and sunshine. The pictures of young Ollie included dogs, horses, and cows. “If I die, I want to say to my parents that I love them. And also, one more time that I’m sorry. I set out to make you proud, and if you’re watching this, I let you down instead. I love you.” Unlike Madeline, Ollie smiled in every picture, the only exceptions being the still taken of him with Landon and the candid shot of him dying.

  “He was nice,” Emily said then clapped a hand over her mouth.

  “You are one of us,” Edmund told her. “You may speak whenever you choose.”

  “Yet I may not have the same courtesy?” Vlad said.

  Emily smiled at them both.

  Stewart’s school photos showed him in a simple uniform of a white button-up shirt and blue shorts. He had played baseball, basketball, and football throughout the years as well as the trombone. The trombone had been a brief experiment designed by Stewart’s mother to make him a more well-rounded child, and it had failed miserably.

  High school pictures highlighted a laughing, boisterous Stewart and in his prom photo, he was paired with another attractive teenager. “This only gets played if I die, right? So, what I want to do is say goodbye to Audrey and Logan. I love you guys literally more than life itself, and I hope, that whatever else happens, at the end of all this, I’ve earned back your respect. And, Marcy, fuck you.” There followed a single shot of Stewart and Marcy, although Marcy had never consented to appear on the show. A fact which someone from legal realized when the image flashed across the screen, setting in motion events that would end his association with Creature of the Night and cost the show something in the low six figures.

  “Who needs a tissue?” Chaz asked the audience who responded with whistles and cheers. “Now joining us by Skype to share their final goodbyes with us are the friends and family who held our beloved contestants so dear.”

  Donovan’s wife Tara appeared on the screens.

  “I hope you’re happy,” Tara said then laughed. “You’re dead; I almost forgot. I watched your confessional, you shit. I don’t know how you could humiliate me like that in front of the whole world. I did everything for you. I cooked, I entertained, I gave you two beautiful children who you never appreciated, and I had relations with you once a week even when I didn’t feel like it. And you know what, Mr. Donovan Juan? I haven’t felt like it for years.”

  “At least she’s not bitter,” Delia said.

  “Don’t judge,” Nodin said. “She lacks your ability to easily exsanguinate an offending spouse.”

  “I watched you die about twenty minutes ago,” Tara said. “That’s normal now, right? Your cheating fucking husband dies on a game show trying to become a vampire, and there’s a camera crew on standby to get your reaction. Well, here it is. You’d think I’d have some grief, but I don’t. If it weren't for the kids and the life insurance, I would call our relationship a twenty-year mistake. I guess I should thank the nice people from the show. Because now, my dreams are going to come true. And my dreams include lying on the beach with anyone who isn’t you.”

  “Wow,” Delia said. “Everything does happen for a reason.”

  “I’m confused by that inanity uttered in such sincere tones,” Edmund said.

  “Fuck off, Edmund,” Delia said.

  “I think we’re more of a reality show than a game show,” Chaz said.

  “Re-al-i-ty! Re-al-i-ty! Re-al-i-ty!” The audience chimed.

  Celeste’s parents replaced Tara. This time, her father wept while his wife held his hand and spoke. “I knew this would be our outcome. I also know God has a plan for us all, and now I know this was His plan for you. I don’t understand it, and my heart is broken, but I know we will see you again one day.”

  “See?” Delia said.

  “You don’t believe in God,” Nodin observed.

  “I believe in serendipity,” Delia said. “If my father had not done unspeakable things, I would not have fled. If the humans had not panicked and declared war when vampires revealed themselves, I would not have been found and changed so I might join the fight to oppose their madness. I would not have had my glorious revenge and become the powerful and beautiful creature here today. Instead, I would have died centuries ago after living a sad life as a cook and broodmare to some brute.”

  “Now I’m a believer,” Edmund sang, in a surprising tenor.“There is minimal to no doubt in my mind.”

  “Edmund!” Delia was surprised into a grin that was not in keeping with her regal façade. In her delight, she sang a few words aloud. “I’m in love…”

  Edmund grumbled. “Now you’re a believer?”

  “I couldn’t drain her if I tried.” Nodin had joined the game enthusiastically, forgetting for too long, that he couldn’t sing.

  Cyri’s dad was humming along. Cyri tried to nudge him silent.

  “What honey? Everybody loves The Beatles.”

  “That’s not…” Cyri stopped. It just wasn’t worth the effort. She pointedly turned her attention to the stage. Her father did the same.

  Charmed, if slightly confused, the audience had begun to chant. “Believer! Believer! Believer!”

  “In loftier times,” Edmund said, “women were to be seen, rather than heard.”

  “Later, I will hurt you,” Delia said. “But I promise to do it silently.”

  “It was fond memories of the last time you hurt me that brought me back to this ridiculous show.”

  “Flatterer.”

  “I thought your presence was needed to prevent the changing of someone unsuitable,” Nodin said.

  “Let us agree my reasons are my own.” Edmund glowered. The audience roared its approval of the vampire banter.

  “Here to represent Kannon’s parents in their final farewell is that nice official looking person
we saw earlier.” Chaz waved the audience’s attention toward the screens.

  “The Balls would like to express their sorrow at the loss of their son. However, despite their earlier expression of support, they did not condone his association with Creature of the Night or any affiliate company. We would like to remind everyone Kannon was of age and the family is not responsible for any action taken by Kannon during the course of the show.”

  “I forget,” Edmund said. “Was any action taken by Kannon during the course of the show?”

  “This is a tragic loss,” the associate said. “And Kannon will be missed. At this time, we have no further comment.”

  “Here comes Cassie’s friend Milay with another touching goodbye,” Chaz said.

  “So you’re dead,” Milay said beside Cassie’s image on the screens. “And you would think they would give me your solo now, but I just heard from Jenna they’re looking to bring some bitch in from a Russian company. And if that’s not enough, I’m getting threatening emails.” Milay burst into tears. “People are saying I’m not a good friend. I think we both know what a good friend I am. I mean, you did know, but now you’re dead because you’re selfish, even though everyone thinks you’re wonderful. But you’re not wonderful.

  “You had to go on that show and die when the least you could have done was stay and coach me so I could have your solo once you got all crippled. That’s what a friend would do. I just think it’s not fair, that’s all. How people don’t understand how self-centered you were. And I want everyone to know I loved CassCass like a sister, and this has a profound effect on me. I’m suffering, and I need support. So don’t be evil to me.”

  “Let’s send Milay an edible bouquet,” Chaz said.

  “Let us make her an edible bouquet,” Vlad suggested.

  Chaz introduced Lola’s ex-boyfriend who arrived via electronics in the middle of it.

  “Sorry, I’m kind of shocked. You never know, do you? I would have bet on Lola to win it. Obviously, now I’m glad I didn’t. It’s too bad though. It’s always a sad day when a hot chick dies. I remember the night we met. We ended up fucking on the hood of my Impala.”