Last Rites

by Lily Luchesi

  Dropping his keys and coat where he stood, he ran inside to find Angelica leaning over the kitchen sink, coughing up great gobs of blood. Her hair was plastered to her face and neck with sweat and blood tears were leaking from her eyes. He came up behind her and held her hair from her face while his other hand held her steady at the waist.

  “Fuck, Angie, please tell me you’re pregnant,” he said. Because any other reason for a vampire to throw up was never a good one.

  She shook her head. “The stake...from yesterday—” she spat a glob of blood into the sink “—it was rubbed down with garlic.”

  They hadn’t told Danny that, but he remembered Edgar saying that rubbing Ronnie’s crib down with garlic had kept Augustus from eating him as an infant.

  “What do we do? Is there an antidote, or a transfusion? Can we pump your stomach?”

  “Yeah, like anything is that simple,” she said. She coughed. No blood came up this time, but she wheezed severely. “Okay, you can let go. I think I’m fine for now.”

  Danny let go gingerly, and Angelica sank down onto a chair. “What’s going to happen?”

  “Well, there is an antidote, but if it were to work for me, I’d have needed it within an hour of being poisoned,” she said, tying her hair into a ponytail. “And it was so subtle, there was no way of knowing that I had garlic in my system.”

  The unspoken words of “until it was too late” hung between them.

  Dread began to sink in as Danny sat across from her. “What do we do, then?”

  “Nothing.” She sounded so blasé about it.

  “Nothing? Angelica, you do realize what you’re saying, don’t you?” Danny cried.

  She nodded. “I do.”

  “Then how the Hell are you so calm?”

  She smiled at him. “Danny, pretend you knew you had one night left on Earth. How would you want to spend it? Nothing outlandish, mind you.”

  He looked over at her and took her hand. “With you.”

  “Then you see why I’m not so upset. Many times I thought I’d die alone, injured, hunted. If I had to plan my death like many humans plan theirs, all I’d want was to spend my last hours on Earth with you. I was ready to die yesterday. Not much has changed.”

  “Except now you have no choice,” he pointed out. He figured maybe he was in shock he was being so calm.

  Angelica shrugged. “Better to die like this than to kill myself.”

  He got up and pulled her to her feet as well, wrapping his arms around her. “This can’t be happening.”

  “I’m sorry, but it is,” she said. He felt one of her hands weaving in his curls. She buried her face in his neck and he felt her breath on his skin. “I love you, Danny. And because I love you, I need you to make me a promise.”

  “Anything.”

  She pulled away to look in his eyes. “Live. You can do what you will at the PID, but you need to have a life. You deserve children, you deserve love. You’re still young and you can have all of that. Don’t let my death hinder your life.”

  He chuckled. “That’s a hard promise to make.”

  “I’ll feel better about all this if you do, though. Hell, you don’t have to keep it: just make it.”

  Danny leaned down and kissed her, blood on her lips be damned. “I promise.”

  ***

  Danny stayed with Angelica until just before sunrise. When she took to her coffin, he followed her into the room.

  “Will it be tonight?”

  She nodded. “I love you, Danny. With all my black little heart, I love you.”

  He kissed her, her skin warmed from his blood. The last time she’d ever drink it. “I can’t bring myself to say goodbye.”

  “It’s not goodbye. Not really. If I get to Heaven, I’ll see you again,” she said, sounding so certain of that fact. “Now go. I always hated for you to see me in the coffin, and tonight is no exception. Let this be how you remember me.” She gestured to herself. “Alive. And so happy, Danny. I’m glad…” She began to cough, for the first time since earlier that evening. “Fuck. ...I’m glad we cleared the air.” She kissed him again, and he felt her tears as her face brushed his. “I would have hated leaving you even more.”

  Danny didn’t know what to say, and that was precisely what he said.

  “You don’t need to say anything, you ass. Just go, please, before the sun rises.”

  He nodded, backing out of the room so she really would be the last thing he’d see. As soon as he closed the door behind him, he went straight downstairs and took a long drink from a new bottle of whiskey, something he hadn’t done so blatantly since he’d met Angelica. The bottle was finished by the time the sun was in the sky.

  He wound up falling asleep at the kitchen table, not waking till it was past sunset. His mouth tasted like cotton and moth balls, while his head felt like it was in a food processor, and he remembered why he’d quit drinking in the first place.

  Looking at the stairs, he knew he needed to go and see, to be sure, but he couldn’t. Angelica should be coming down those stairs to ridicule him for drinking so much. The thought that she wouldn’t made his stomach do more flip-flops than it already was.

  With a heavy heart and pounding head, he walked up the stairs and entered Angelica’s room. The coffin sat as it usually did, and he placed his hand atop it.

  Please be alive, he thought as he raised the lid. What he saw inside was not his love, waking from her Undead sleep, but a pile of yellowish ash. All that was left of her.

  Collapsing on the floor, his body unable to hold itself up, he cried as he had never cried before, the light in his world forever extinguished.

  Epilogue

  Chicago, Illinois

  February, 2087

  “The Bible said that a man can live to be a hundred and twenty,” thirty-year-old Camille said to her grandfather as she handed him his mug of tea. “I had no idea it was true. Happy birthday, Pops!” She gave him a light, one-armed hug, though she could have hugged him a lot harder. For being well over the centennial, he was a surprisingly strong man.

  He chuckled and looked down at his ten-year-old great-grandson, who had been named after him. “Daniel, you look here and see that nothing is impossible, not even living life when you thought you were finished before you were fifty!”

  Little Daniel laughed and then said, “Pops, can you tell me one of your stories? Please?”

  Camille pursed her lips. Danny knew that she had never been fond of the outlandish tales he had told her as a kid, had told her mother, and now told her son. She thought that they bordered on insanity. “Pops…”

  He held up a hand. “I won’t tell him anything too crazy, I promise, Cammie.” She sighed and relented. She knew he was quite old, and she didn’t want to deprive her son of any quality time he had left with the man. Danny refrained from smirking. If she only knew the real crazy stories he had!

  When she closed the door behind her, little Daniel sat in the chair that faced the bed and window and said, “I don’t care if Mom doesn’t like your stories. Tell me more about Angie, before she died.” When he was little, Daniel had thought his Pops’ stories were fiction, but Danny could see that something had happened recently that gave the kid pause. Before he could forget, Daniel asked, “Do you think vampires can come back as ghosts? You know, since they do have souls.”

  “Hm. Never thought of it. Probably. ...Why?” Even at a hundred and twenty, Daniel Mancini was still a shrewd detective and precognitive. He could tell that his great-grandson had inherited his gifts. But already the kid was great at blocking his mind from Danny’s intrusion. Still, he was curious.

  “I thought...never mind. Just tell me more about her.” The kid was persistent, just like his namesake. “When you met her.”

  “Again?” Danny didn’t mind rehashing what had turned out to be the best day of his life. He had been in personal Hell before Angie had found him.

  “When I opened the door to see her standing there, she took my breath aw
ay. She was so beautiful. She had a presence around her that I had never felt before. Her eyes were as if they could see through my soul. I know, that’s cliché, right?”

  Little Daniel shook his head. “I think you loved her, Pops. That’s not cliché.”

  “Do you even know what ‘cliché’ means?” Danny asked, grinning.

  “Nope,” the kid replied, making them both laugh.

  Danny got a coughing fit from the laughter. When he stopped, he had something important to say to his great-grandson. “I do not think I will be here much longer, Daniel. You remember when your mother and I told you about Heaven and dying?”

  The boy nodded.

  “So you know not to be sad or scared when I do go, right?”

  Again, he nodded.

  “You need to know something important. Your mother will refute this, and she will never allow you to practice, but do you remember when I told you I had those special powers? Well, I can also sense people who have them, too. Like you.”

  “ME?” The boy’s eyes lit up with excitement.

  “Yes, you. I don’t think you’re reincarnated, but you’ve got ’em somehow. They haven’t come to the surface yet, but they will. I can’t tell you how to harness them or how to live with them—those are things you have to learn for yourself. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to be your teacher as I’d like to be. I will tell you these things, however. One, don’t ever use your powers to do bad things. Two, if you have the opportunity to use your powers for good, do it, but never seek out danger.” Danny leaned his head back on his pillows.

  “I will be good, I promise,” Daniel said.

  “Good boy. Now, please send your mother back in here.”

  When Camille walked back into the room, her eyes were wet. “It’s time, isn’t it?”

  Danny nodded. “It’s for the best, Cammie. I don’t want you or the boy to watch me die. And it was in my contract to have care once I got to this age. Of course, I don’t think any of them at the FBI had predicted I’d live this long!”

  Camille managed a smile. “I’ll call them, Pops.” She kissed his brow and her emotions flowed strongly into his mind. He had always been such a strong man, a great presence in her life. He had been a police officer, detective, and FBI agent. While his stories about vampires and demons hinted at senility, he was still so sound-bodied and minded. To see him weaken this much was tragic.

  ***

  Late that night, when the whole house was asleep, little Daniel slipped into his winter coat and boots to walk next door, to the house that had been abandoned for decades. His Pops had said his neighbor had been murdered there, and because of that fact no one would buy the place. It had been empty since early 2017.

  Lately, he had seen someone in the top story window and on the widow’s walk late at night. Now he needed to go and see if the ghost was real.

  The door’s lock was so old it broke off in his hand, granting him easy access to the inside. The house was cold and dusty, but it seemed empty. He was disappointed. He wanted to meet this fabled Angelica, even if it was just her ghost. His Pops had spoken so well of her and so frequently, Daniel felt as though she was an old friend.

  “Hey!” he called, and swore he felt a presence in the room with him. “If you’re here, my pops is real sick. He thinks he’s gonna die soon. So...if you can...I don’t know...maybe visit him? Welcome him when he goes?” Daniel was trying not to cry. “He misses you a lot, you know. I bet he’ll be glad to see you again in Heaven.”

  Nothing. He sighed dejectedly and left the house, sneaking back home and climbing into bed. Maybe the ghost had been a figment of his imagination, but he knew better. He had powers like Pops, and he had seen a ghost. He had seen her ghost, watching over the Mancini family in the dead of night.

  ***

  The FBI came the next afternoon and brought Danny to a very nice wing in their care facility. His family was allowed to go with him to say goodbye.

  Daniel looked about him as they were led through offices, seeing people who were wholly normal, and some who were not. It was dark by four P.M. in February, and some of these agents looked too pale to be normal. Others were far too hairy. He could tell his mother was uneasy there as well. His father didn’t seem very fazed.

  The room they set Danny up in had every perk they could cram in there, and it seemed like he would be comfortable. This had been his choice decades ago, and he told Camille that he was glad he had stuck with it.

  “Well, you did many great years of service with us,” the doctor said to him. The doctor was also too pale and seemed to know Danny very well.

  “Yeah. I remember having to see you one time too many,” Danny grinned. “Setting ribs, healing wounds...and let’s not forget what happened after Miranda went all Fatal Attraction.”

  The doctor shook his head. “I’d rather forget that one!” Daniel wondered how this doctor knew his Pops when this man was barely fifty. He turned to the family and said, “Visiting hours will end soon, so I recommend saying goodbye till you come visit again.” He smiled and left the room.

  Danny was very tired, so they did not take too long to say goodbye. Daniel felt a tug, and he knew that this was the last time he’d ever see his Pops again.

  “I love you, kid. Remember what I’ve told you,” was the last thing he said to him before they exited.

  Outside, in the hall, both Daniel and his mother began to cry clutching each other for dear life. Daniel’s father tapped them both and Daniel noticed that he looked a bit scared.

  “I am not trying to be insensitive, but can we take this outside?” his dad asked. “I don’t like the way that girl is glaring at us.”

  Both Daniel and Camille looked to where he was staring, but there was no one there.

  ***

  Danny was alone with his thoughts as he felt his body rapidly fading. The years of drinking vampire blood—the blood of the Empress, no less—had given him an abnormally long and healthy life. Now, that blood had finally run out of his bloodstream and he was rapidly declining. He was certain he wouldn’t make it till the morning. Even with that drop of vampire blood he had inherited from Augustus, it wasn’t enough to give him immortality.

  He was grateful that Angelica’s essence had remained with him for so many years, letting him see his family grow and expand. He had been wary to be with anyone after Angie’s death, but it was what she had wanted for him. It had been her last request, and so he had honored it and his life had been as good as it could get.

  He raised a son, and he had given him a wonderful granddaughter, who in turn had given the world a new precog who could possibly aid the PID one day as Danny had done. He had quit the PID the year after Angelica’s death, once they’d gotten settled into a new regime, but they still protected his family, as Angie had ordered them to do. Nothing and no one would ever be able to hurt them as long as the PID remained up and running.

  Dying did not scare him. Not when he knew he was going to be reunited with Angelica, his one true love. His heart leapt at the thought of being with her again, just in spirit.

  He closed his eyes and let his mind drift, recalling one of his favorite memories of Angelica, this happening after they’d defeated Fiona and she had moved in with him.

  Danny had been gone for the day on a case, and came home to see Angelica with some paint on her usually immaculate clothes. He decided not to mention it and instead went into their bathroom to wash up from the day.

  "Um...Angie?" he called the moment he set foot into the master bath.

  "What?" she called back, nonchalant as anything.

  "...What the fuck is in our shower?" The white walls had been painted with circles in primary colors in perfectly straight lines. All over except the ceiling.

  Angelica chuckled and he heard her turning pages of a book from the other room. "You said 'no' to the Twister sheets."

  "So you thought that making the shower look like Pennywise threw up all over it was a good compromise?" Danny asked,
staring at the walls, aghast. "Is this a game, you see how far you can push me now that you've moved in?"

  Quiet as a cat, Angelica was behind him, that creepy vampire speed making him not notice her until she laughed again, in his ear this time.

  "I have no time for games, Danny, but naked, wet shower Twister? That's something everyone should have time for. Including you. Right now."

  Just as he was getting to the good part, he heard his door open slowly and shut again. The moon was full and bright, but his visitor was making sure to stay out of its light. It was most likely a woman, from the sound of stilettos clicking on the tiles.

  “If you’re the Grim Reaper, you came about forty years later than you should have,” he quipped. It was probably a doctor, but he still had to crack the joke.

  Silence. Maybe he had imagined it? He was not imagining the perfume that permeated the room, however. It smelled like cloves and something sensual. It had to be a doctor or an assassin, sent by someone he had tried to execute during his PID days.

  A black-gloved hand clutched the bed’s metal railing. Yep, it was an assassin. He had lived over a century only to be killed by an assassin when he was too feeble to move? What a bitch.

  “I am glad I’m not too late.” One of the gloves were removed to reveal a pale, manicured hand with black nail polish.

  “Oh, good,” he murmured. “I’m just dreaming.” This obviously could not be real.

  “Hey, maybe this is a nightmare.” That laugh. How he loved hearing it, even when it was just a dream. It brought joy to his heart.

  “Whenever you appear, it is always a good dream...even when my mind replays the day you died. Just seeing you makes me smile.” His voice was so weak. At least if he was dying, he’d die with her voice in his ears.

  “Tell me something, something you’d say to me if I were really here,” she said. He heard the visitor’s chair squeak against the tiles as it was placed out of the moonlight.