Slay: Stories of the Vampire Noire

by Slay (epub)

  “¡Ay bendito!” someone cried. “What is that?” People shouted, pointed.

  * * *

  Just like Orfeu, I knew I shouldn’t look back, but I had already stared into the abyss. Only a narrow strip of sky separated us, so I turned to see.

  Golden scales, impossible wings. One, no, two serpent’s tails bursting through the flames. A song so loud and wretched, it sounded as if the whole sky’s throat opened to sing.

  For some, cautionary truths, though known, must be lived. Others can see the signs before the symbols emerge and still they fall head in. I was the latter. I saw but didn’t want to see. I wanted the dream. When we look in the sky to watch the stars, we are seeing them as they once were. But bright suns give the most light when they are leaving you.

  Transfixed we watched as the creature circled the high, vaulted ceilings of Infinity. Brilliant flames, great flickering tongues of fire and heat, rushed through the nightclub engulfing the black walls. The crowd moved, eyes wide, coughing, wailing, mouths flung open, but it was as if all the sound was turned off. It felt like I was running against a great, hot wind.

  “This way!” The guard from earlier guided people out of a side door that led to an alley. Relieved, we bumrushed the door, one person getting jammed before the screaming crowd pushed us all through.

  “El fiesta se fue al garete!” a woman in a glittering emerald gown yelled. “The party went to hell!”

  Standing outside shivering in zero-degree weather as firetrucks descended, I had to agree.

  The night Infinity burned was the night Disco nearly died in me. But even though the nightclub burned, the fire couldn’t burn my memories. I had gone to the discos in search of strangers, anonymous partiers who on the dance floor became my friends. Instead of love and solidarity, I left with unclean hands, a stained shirt, and enough disparate memories to haunt me for years.

  I could hear the last notes of Delilah’s song, a scream as if every star in the night was afire. The notes scatter like broken teeth across the smoke-filled air. What was tender in the notes, the soft, the thrumming, came from a thousand other heartbroken souls like me. That night I stood in the crowd with those who were still in shock. We watched as the firemen worked to control the six-alarm fire, grieved for the loss of our shared home. I blink back tears, covered in ashes, but when the day rises and the sky clears, there is only the burned-out building, its gaping windows, and the outline of the sun. I walk away but only make it a few steps when something falls from the sky and drops in front of me. A melted canister. I pick it up. Misshapen, it’s still hot to the touch. Like her love, a smoldering wild thing.

  The Retiree

  Steven Van Patten

  The stop and go traffic they suffered through over the past hour managed to provide one awkward silence after the next. Mona couldn’t take it anymore. “Daddy? Are you okay? You haven’t said anything since we left the house.”

  “Not sure what I’m supposed to say.” Gideon Hastings stared out the passenger-side window as his daughter drove them through the Holland Tunnel to New Jersey. “Thanks for the lift, I guess? After all, you could have just put me in a car service.”

  “It’s really for the best. Simon and I are both working. And the kids…“

  “Are too busy staring at their phones, watching TV and listening to shitty music,” he said. “I blame you for that, by the way.”

  “What are you blaming me for?”

  “Let’s see,” he said. “How about I blame you for the fact that your kids are idiots and you don’t care as long as they aren’t disturbing you and that asshole you married? I can blame you all for being self-entitled, narcissistic little shits.”

  The sedan in front of Mona’s SUV stopped short. She hit the brakes hard, causing both her and her father to lurch forward in their seats, seatbelts biting into their chests.

  “And you’re a terrible driver to boot!”

  “Maybe if someone hadn’t been working all the time and taught me how to be a better driver, or for that matter made it clearer what sort of lofty heights I was supposed to attain as a mother and human being, I’d be more tolerable. In any event, I am clearly not who you expected me to be.”

  “Oh, now you’re getting all sensitive. I’m the one being discarded.”

  “You’re not being discarded! But you don’t get along with the rest of the family! It’s not fair to the kids! It’s not fair to Simon and it’s not fair to you.”

  “What’s not fair is that you married someone who is markedly stupider than you are! Jesus! When are women going to learn? Sure, you’re going to go through a ‘bad boy’ phase. Yes, you’re inherently going to want to bone some dumb, penitentiary-bound lummox. Women are attracted to strength on a genetic level and big dummies like Simon project strength. I get it. But we are past the caveman days. Women and their children need more than a brute in this complex world. You have an M.B.A., which I busted my ass to pay for. You should have at least married a college grad who actually covers his ass with his pants. You should have had children with a smarter man!”

  “That might be the most chauvinistic thing I’ve ever heard! And for your information, Simon is smart! He’s not book smart like you, but he’s smart.”

  “He didn’t know Albany was the capital of New York State. We live in New York State.”

  “He’s a rapper.”

  “So, he shouldn’t know what the capital of his home state is? I call bullshit. And he’s not a rapper. Rappers go on tour, making real money putting on shows and selling downloads from iTunes. Simon is one of those annoying asses in the middle of Times Square harassing busy people trying to get to their jobs, all so they can sell them a CD full of profanity about selling drugs and banging strippers. I listened to some of that nonsense. I hope that’s not you he’s talking about in that one track and I hope you aren’t lettin’ them slow ass kids listen to that mess.”

  “I give up, Daddy! Do you even hear yourself talking about your own grandchildren like this?!”

  “Yes, I do hear myself. You are kicking me out of my own house because I hurt their feelings. However, since I’m speaking the truth, I’m unbothered. Those children need special schooling, especially with that jackass husband of yours in the house.”

  Mona felt the sting of tears. On some level, she knew her father was saying these things because he loved her. But a child being criticized by a parent can’t always see the love behind it.

  “Why so quiet?” Gideon said. “Not even going to hit me with a ‘whatever, daddy’ or a ‘shut up, daddy’?”

  Choking on her resentment, Mona sped up and let the car do the talking.

  According to both the brochure and the website, the Shady Meadows Assisted Living Facility provided everything from a ballroom to a tennis court to an outdoor amphitheater. The designers made sure the entire campus was wheelchair accessible. At first sight, it reminded Gideon of a physical therapy center he spent time in during the 1980s after sustaining a grievous leg injury in a fight. He grimaced as his mind flooded with painful memories.

  Two orderlies met Mona’s car as it pulled up to the front of the registration building. Gideon sized up the two burly men as they helped Mona take his suitcases out of the trunk and bring them inside. Even at sixty-seven, he felt reasonably sure he could subdue them both, if he had to.

  As they walked through a large oak door and entered the main corridor, a redheaded Caucasian lady in her late twenties greeted them from the front desk in a slight southern drawl. Her blank enthusiasm caused the words cult member to flash in Gideon’s mind.

  “Hello beautiful people! I’m Cathy Reynolds and I’ll be handling your check-in. Welcome to Shady Meadows!”

  After he shook the exuberant young lady’s hand, Gideon sat down with her and Mona to fill out the last bit of paperwork. Except for Cathy assuring Mona that her father would be fine, no one spoke.

  Once they signed the last of the entry documents Gideon and Mona quietly followed Cathy as she led them
to Gideon’s new room. The path they walked cut through a courtyard filled with benches and tables. Several elderly residents from all walks of life, shapes, shades, and sizes sat engaged in a variety of activities. Many attempted to say hello to the ‘new guy’. Gideon responded to each greeting with a surprised glare, as if he didn’t understand why he was being spoken to.

  “I think some of these women are checking you out, Dad,” Mona whispered.

  Gideon muttered something Mona couldn’t completely make out, but she was positive she’d heard the word ‘stupid’ in there somewhere.

  Once inside the room, Mona and Cathy watched as Gideon walked around studying the space, noting each piece of pre-furnishing.

  “The bed’s a queen,” Cathy said, “but if you need a king or have some other issues…”

  “It’s fine,” Gideon said.

  “You haven’t even sat on it,” Mona noted.

  “The desk is preloaded with stationery and you’ll find a list of extensions for the shift nurse, housekeeping and so on. Your current package allows for the 32” flat screen with just basic cable, but if you want to upgrade…” Cathy said.

  “I won’t need the upgrade,” Gideon said. “I think the carpet is a bad idea, though. Allergies.”

  “Well, the carpet is standard, but we can always explore options tomorrow.” Cathy’s nervous chuckle said he was going to have to live with the carpet. “Will you be okay for the evening?”

  “Actually, I’m forgetting myself. Don’t mind me.” Gideon turned to her. “The room is fine. Really.”

  “Okay great,” Cathy said. “Well, I’m going to leave you two. You can stay as long as you like and get your father settled. It was nice meeting you both.”

  They shook hands and exchanged polite smiles.

  “You too, Cathy. Thanks for everything,” Mona said.

  Gideon gave Cathy a smile and a wave as she exited. Mona closed the door behind her. “You could have been a little friendlier about that.”

  “I suppose,” he said. “All right, I guess you better get going.”

  “Um, Daddy. I was going to help you unpack.”

  “Nah, I’m good. And you have a long drive home. Take care of yourself.”

  She protested, but in seconds he took hold of her elbow and led her to the door. Once he got her on the other side of the door, his posture hardened, as if he were bracing himself for something difficult.

  “I love you,” he said as he closed the door without waiting for her reply.

  Gideon sat down at the desk and found the stationery. It took a half hour and a few start-overs before he found the words he really wanted to say to his only daughter. Truth was, he’d always found it easier to say what was in his heart on paper rather than in person, but in this case, it needed to be done.

  Once he’d finished, he pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and placed a call. “I’m all set,” he told the man on the other end. “You can have the trunk after you deliver the check and a letter I wrote my daughter.”

  “I can’t release the check if this little theory of yours doesn’t work,” the person said.

  “It’ll work,” he said. “You just keep up your end. Look for the letter in the mail.”

  There was an awkward silence. “I guess this is goodbye, then.”

  “It is. Take care of yourself.”

  “It’s been an honor, sir.”

  “Right back at ya!”

  Gideon put his cellphone face down on the desk and stood up. He chuckled as he moved his luggage from the middle of the room to one of his new closets. Then he sat down on the bed, took a deep breath, and spent the next few minutes staring at the window.

  No sense in unpacking, since I’m not going to be here that long. I’ll just hide the stuff in case someone stops by and wonders why I’m not settling in.

  Shortly after 9 p.m., a knock at the door confirmed his suspicions that someone would stop by.

  He half expected to see Cathy the Cult Leader when he yanked the door open, only to be greeted by a short, white lady in a light blue sweater and khakis.

  I’ve died and gone to The Gap instead of Heaven.

  “Gideon!” the lady cried as if she was greeting someone she’d known for years. “How the hell are you?”

  “Fine,” he answered with a tone that didn’t hide his suspicion. “And who might you be?”

  “I’m Lancaster Goldberg,” she replied. “I’m sort of the welcome wagon around here.”

  “Lancaster?” Gideon repeated. “Your father was a--”

  “Burt Lancaster fan! Exactly!” She laughed. “I think he believed that naming me ‘Lancaster’ would give me all sorts of dignity and maybe make it less likely for me to be promiscuous. Who would want to screw a girl named after Burt Lancaster, right? Well, trust me, I turned sixteen and the joke was on him, I tell ya!”

  “Yikes!” Gideon gave an uncomfortable laugh of his own. “So what can I do for you, Lancaster?”

  “Well, it’s really more about what I can do for you,” Lancaster said. “After all, man can’t live on food and Bingo alone.”

  “Neither can woman, I’d imagine.”

  “True! Oh, you’re just all sorts of sharp and swarthy and debonair, aren’t cha?” Lancaster showed him a grin full of dental implants. “Anyway, just wanted you to know that if you should need anything that this place can’t or won’t provide, you might consider asking me.”

  I really don’t need this right now, but I guess I have to play along. Can’t let little Lancaster here know I’m on a suicide mission.

  “Something like what?”

  “Well, let’s say your sciatic nerve should kick in because these mattresses are just so terrible. I have something for that. Or, let’s say you’re in the rec room one day and one of our little lady residents catches your eye. But when the time comes to show her how much you really like her, you fall a little short. I have stuff for that too.”

  “I see where you’re going with this.” Gideon nodded. “You run the cell block. Lancaster the Gangster.”

  “Oh, c’mon! It’s not like I’m running a protection racket.” Lancaster dismissed the accusation with a shrug. “I just smuggle pills and run the sports gambling. And I saw you when you showed up, marching through the lobby with your bags and an air of ‘been there, done that’. Since you come across as the well-travelled sort, I didn’t think I would have to wait my customary week to approach you. I usually get to know the newbies before I hit them with the sales pitch, just in case they are some kind of goodie-goodie that would rat me out to the staff.”

  “Well no one’s ever accused me of that. I’d never rat you out. In fact, I respect your hustle. But I also don’t need any pills right now.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll be seeing you, new guy!” She turned to go, then stopped. “By the way, you don’t have a problem with white ladies, do you?”

  “Just ones who vote a certain way,” he answered.

  “Of course! I’m Jewish on my father’s side, so I get that. But I’m talking about dating. And again, I’ll pay you the courtesy of being blunt. You’re one very well preserved, hot piece of chocolate. If you were in the market for a sugar mama, there are a few of our wealthier residents who might enjoy a ride on the Dark Cocoa Express, if you know what I’m saying. All you have to do is say the word. Naturally, I’d ask for a small finder’s fee.”

  “Good to know!” Gideon didn’t know whether to feel insulted or flattered that the cellblock queen deemed him worthy to pimp out. What he did know was that it was time for her to go. “I’m going to sleep on it, if that’s okay?”

  “Of course, potential clients will ask if I sampled the goods…”

  He needed to think fast. “You know, the truth is I only recently became a widower. Might be a while before I’m feeling amorous.”

  “All good, Sweetback!” Lancaster answered as Gideon opened the door and let her out. “You and I are going to stay in touch though.”

  “Sure thing
, Lancaster. Good night!”

  He closed the door and chuckled as he walked back to the desk.

  There was a time I would have prayed for a random roll in the hay like that. But I can’t tonight. I can’t screw this up.

  When no further visitors appeared by 10 p.m., Gideon started to think he’d gotten it wrong. That he had antagonized and alienated his family and gotten kicked out of his own house on the basis of a bad hunch. Granted, he didn’t regret anything he had said on the drive to Shady Meadows or anything he’d said to his daughter, her less than scholarly kids, and her pipedream grasping husband over the past year. They needed every bit of it and the fact that they reacted to his criticism so viscerally only served to make him more confident in his beliefs.

  But there was a hidden reason why he’d let himself be put out of the house he paid for by someone he’d put through college only to watch her marry and start a family with the neighborhood buffoon. His continued presence in the house would have put them all in danger. Selfish, smartphone and reality show loving little shits or not, he couldn’t in good conscience put them in harm’s way.

  Lancaster had been right to suspect that his mattress would be less than comfortable. While Gideon probably wasn’t going to fall asleep, he certainly would have liked to meditate without a nearly uncoiled metal spring jabbing into his vertebrae. In a last-ditch effort to accomplish that, he jumped out of bed and turned off all the lights.

  He lay in the bed as his eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness. Then he noticed the window and the silhouette that had fallen over it. He threw the sheet off of his body, climbed out of the bed and walked across the room as the blinds rustled.

  “Well, let’s see who’s here, shall we?”

  He pulled the drawstring.

  “Good evening, “the creature on the other side of the window said.

  “So they sent a full on gargoyle-class demon.” Gideon noticed the creature’s leathery black skin and impressive wingspan. “Kind of taking a chance, aren’t you? It’s only eleven o’clock. Someone might see you.”