Vampires Don't Cry: A Mother's Curse

by Hall, Ian

  Dr. Fabrini tugged at me as the first sprays of droplets coated my face. I wanted nothing more than to stay and dance beneath the purging clouds, but I knew my only chance at feeling the grass on my feet again would be to acquiesce and follow.

  Slowly, I bent and plucked a single blade of grass from the ground. I clutched it in my palm like a treasure and Dr. Fabrini graciously allowed me my prize.

  Immortal and Pathetic

  Theresa Scholes, 1958, Cookeville, Pennsylvania

  I often wondered as I drifted through my teenage years if I’d ever show an ability to be excellent at anything. I’d hit mid grades at high school, and now easing through second year of Community College, I did the same. I sat mid to upper grade in most of my Gen Ed classes, and with the end of the semester approaching I sent out applications to some of the mid-level colleges; nothing too expensive, but nothing too cruddy either. My folks were definitely middle class, or considered themselves so, by their house, big family car and income.

  Then I met the new guy in class: Jason Conrad, the smoldering hunk from just outside of town, and my life changed forever. He looked like James Dean, and had a south western drawl like a gunfighter in the cowboy movies. Of course I was smitten; so were half of the girls in class. We could barely keep our heads turned to the black-board. Then, to my surprise with the rest of college to choose from, Jason asked me out. Talk about cloud nine!

  I allowed Jason to court me with his smooth talk and his sexy smile. I watched his lips as they pulled the smoke from his cigarettes, and accepted one for myself. I accepted his invites to ‘take a drive’, giving encouragement to his wandering hands and persistent lips as he pressed my slender body against the chrome of the car door.

  Then of course, with my resistance crumbling by the second, he went all the way and took my virginity on the floor of his family living room. I just lay back and let him get on with it, wallowing in the pleasure he gave, driving his naked hips against mine.

  So far so good, but when he bit into my neck, drawing such an outpouring of blood that its flow stained my wide-open blouse, I knew something had gone horribly wrong. When he slashed his wrist and presented it at my mouth to drink, I thought I’d lost my mind.

  He’d torn an artery wide open, and it spurted dark and red onto my face.

  “Drink!” he growled at me, pushing the torn flesh past my lips.

  I caught a taste of his blood on my tongue, and sucked gingerly on his wrist once, not finding immediate aversion to the taste. Then as the sweetest nectar flowed down my throat and the world changed with a flashing of lights and an eruption of pleasure in my loins, I gorged my fill.

  My head seemed to explode, and simultaneously I both accepted his rutting seed and orgasmed in unison.

  I know I fainted.

  I do recall vivid dreams, mostly red pools of boiling blood.

  When I woke, he’d re-arranged my clothes and tied me firmly to his bed, my arms and legs secure under many lashings of thick rope. “What’s going on?” I croaked, my throat sore and somewhat tender.

  “Just wait, you’ll be fine.” Jason said pressing his hand on my belly, his attention out the window, his lips sucking noisily on his cigarette.

  My stomach churned, pains shooting around inside with such ferocity, I thought I’d been poisoned. “What’s happening to me?” I pulled hard on the bindings, lifting both arms slightly off the bed.

  “Don’t struggle!” he spat at me, the tenderness of our previous moments gone completely.

  Inside the dreamy exterior of Jason Conrad beat the heart of a cold blooded thug. I can’t say he forced me, because I definitely took part willingly, but now that I lay suffering the consequences of our actions, his bedside manner needed a bit of refining.

  I spent the next day at his house, I kinda had to. I passed the first night unconscious and bound on his bed, and the next day flat on my back on his uncomfortable sofa, my body churning in pain with no explanation as to why he’d refused to call a doctor.

  Then I heard a knock at the door, and a girl walked in, good-looking, shoulder length blond hair, with all the curves in all the right places. She oozed complexity. Before I could protest her arrival, she’d crossed to my side and put her hand on my forehead.

  “You are a dick-head, Jason,” the censure sounded strange on her lips as she spat over her shoulder. “What have you told her so far?”

  “Nothing much,”

  She shook her head, then smiled at me. “I’m Valérie, and I’ve got good news and bad news.”

  “I’m Theresa,” I managed, “people call me ‘Finch’. I watched Jason slink away to his room, obviously intimidated by this woman. “What’s going on?”

  When she said “You’re a vampire”, I almost got up and walked away. But I’m glad I stayed. I listened to her introduction to the vampire fold; listened as she explained the four phases of the my turning.

  The hunger, the thirst for human blood.

  The passion, the sharing of vampire blood mid-coitus.

  The turning, the moment when a human passes from one species to the next.

  And the beholding, a vampire’s lasting dependency, a bond of loyalty to the one who turned them.

  It proved to be a lot to take in, and in time we moved to the porch and shared a smoke as Valérie provided more information.

  “So Jason’s not in love with me or anything?” I tried to remain stoic, but my heart fell at her answer.

  “No, he was just following orders,” she drew deeply from the cigarette, and exhaled loudly through her nose. “Amos, that’s the big boss, wanted more college kids into the fold. You got chosen. It seems he’s got a place for you in his plans.”

  I nodded as I stared into the trees of the park. The beholden part explained my eagerness to hump Conrad every time he came into my mind, despite his lack of tenderness or emotion in my direction.

  In the coming few days, Valérie and I talked together quite a lot, she’d meet me at college, and we’d go for a soda.

  I lived as much of a normal life as I could at home, but my ‘beholding’ drove me nuts at school; I just wanted to jump Jason at every glimpse.

  Of course, some nights he’d let me, and I found that vampire sex would be the highlight of my life so far.

  In time, Valérie taught me patience and some of the methods vampires use to keep their urges at bay. Pretty soon I could ignore Jason most of the time, unless he got right under my nose and commanded me to give in to him. Then I still proved an easy lay.

  One evening, Jason called for me, driving a Desoto soft-top. “1946.” He said to me proudly. “Dad loaned it to me.” He didn’t smile much anyway, but I should have known something was up. Before we left town, we drove to the park, and picked up Valérie. In minutes, we were driving for Rutherford, a slightly bigger town, some twenty miles away. Probably because of Valérie’s presence Jason drove in silence, and I felt too much of a mouse to start any meaningful conversation. I just sat back with the wind in my hair and enjoyed the ride.

  We arrived at a building that resembled a scout hall, and Jason and Valérie led me inside. There must have been twenty people already there, mostly young, but some were my dad’s age. Then an old man walked in looking like a thin Jimmy Cagney. Two huge men followed him, looking around the room menacingly. All wore well-fitting suits, all looked like they’d walked off the most recent gangster movie.

  “He’s the big boss,” Valérie whispered, leaning close. I could smell the stale cigarette on her breath. “You do whatever he tells you.”

  I nodded. Something about this thin creature spelt danger, and I didn’t like him at all.

  He walked up the three steps to the small stage, and we all shuffled closer.

  “To those who have not met me, my name is Amos Blanche.” Even his voice sounded creepy. “Bring the newcomers closer.”

  Seven of us were pushed to the front, four girls, three guys, all in our late teens or thereabouts.

  “Prepare them t
o feed,” Amos said.

  I felt Jason behind me, kissing my neck and whispering sexy words in my ear. Despite myself, I felt the now common urges between my legs, and I tried to turn round to him, regardless of my audience, but he held my shoulders firm. By the time he’d finished, I stood panting. It seemed all too much, and I ran my tongue over my new sharp teeth, in anticipation of Jason’s flesh.

  Then suddenly it all changed.

  Jason’s hands left my shoulders, and he was brought struggling to our front. Two huge men held him as Valérie tore his clothes from his body.

  “Jason has seen fit to defy me.” Amos said from the stage above. “Despite many chances to amend his ways, he has proven himself unreliable, and a weak link in my cadre.”

  I felt confused, I shook my head. I felt hands grab me by the arms, holding me firmly in place.

  “Now you will all see the consequences of such a betrayal.”

  Jason had been stripped completely naked, held firm by the arms. Valérie walked behind him, her hands moved under his arms, and began to caress his chest. His manhood began to rise at her manipulation, and I felt an immediate overpowering need to strike her hand away and replace it with my own.

  From behind we were all prodded forward, and held firmly just an arm-length away from Jason Conrad’s now quivering form.

  “Let the new ones feed from his betrayal.” Amos said, his voice rising in timbre. “Let them see the penalties of deceit. Let them feast on treachery!”

  Valérie suddenly dug her fingers into his chest, and ripped downward, exposing sinew and ribcage. I could hold back no longer, I broke against my bonds and thrust forward, slashing on his throat with my teeth, then sucked longingly on his neck. I reached down automatically and grabbed his familiar penis, pumping the shaft. My fingers were torn away by others, and I felt hands touching me too, clutching and pawing. I looked up at Jason’s ecstatic face just as Valérie ripped his head from his shoulders. To my shame and joy, I drank from the streams of blood which poured forth.

  Hands tore at my clothing, prised their way to my sex, and I welcomed them. In a pool of warm blood I copulated again and again until the world turned from dark red to black, and the echoes of my cravings had turned to the stuff of nightmares. I remember Amos himself rutting above me, his face contorted in lust, then gradually the world turned black.

  ~ ~ ~

  I woke up in a room so austere, I thought I’d been thrown into a convent. I lifted myself to my elbows and looked around. Single bed, window, door, but no wooden cross hung on the whitewashed walls. As my eyes became accustomed to the bright sunlight slicing through the trails of dust, I noticed a change of clothes, folded neatly, clean, on the floor beside the bed. I nervously looked under the single covering, finding myself indeed quite naked.

  Details of the evening drifted back, and I felt glad of my privacy as my face deepened in shame. My hands, so bloody last night had been meticulously cleaned, not a trace of red remained. I dressed quickly into the strange clothes, conscious that the door could open at any time. I crossed to the window, but the view gave no real clue as to my whereabouts. I stood in a second floor room, but the view before me looked uniformly semi-industrial, overgrown, and gave little sign of any life. Electricity poles staggered through the area like thin sentinels, but even they looked bereft of use.

  To my surprise, the door opened when I tried it, and I advanced out into a dim corridor.

  “Hello?” I called both ways, but initially was met with silence. “Hello!”

  “Theresa?” a voice called from my right. It sounded a bit like Valérie, but I couldn’t be sure. As I advanced, I noticed an open door at the end of the corridor, and I recognized the tap, tap, of a typewriter as I neared.

  “Valérie? Is that you?”

  “Yes, come on in, dearie.” Valérie’s room fared little better than the one I’d just left. A small desk and typewriter denoted it an office rather than bedroom. A number of cigarette ends almost filled a small ashtray by her side, another lay between her fingers, its blue smoke rising past her face. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m okay,” I lied. Flashes of last night had begun to taunt me, one of the boys, thrashing between my legs, his face strained in orgasm. I think he punched my face. “How long have I been sleeping?”

  “Oh, just one night, sweetie. We heal fast, that’s one thing you’ll get to liking. No matter what anyone did to you last night, by the next morning, your body is pretty-well repaired.”

  “Jason?” I knew the answer before she said it, but I had to ask.

  Valérie gave me a wry grin, then “Yes, he didn’t make it, I’m afraid.”

  “What did he do?” I asked, “You know, to deserve to die?”

  Valérie gave me a familiar wry grin. “Well, you witnessed his rather Spartan turning method. He’s been told to change, and he didn’t. You don’t get many chances with Amos Blanche.” She looked at me carefully. “How’s your memory of last night?”

  “Oh I remember some of it.” I shook my head to hide my immediate shame. “Valerie? Could I be pregnant?”

  She turned from her typewriter, tapping her cigarette on the ashtray. “No sweetie, no way. I’ve been around for a hundred years, give or take a few, and I’ve never seen it. We vampires simply don’t have the capability for it.”

  I gave a sigh of relief. “Where exactly are we?”

  “A small unofficial hotel we run. You’re still in Rutherford.”

  I gave a thought to my parents, finding my bed empty, and on a school morning too. But I didn’t care, my life had changed and classes were already beginning to lose their charm. “Do you have a phone here?” I looked around but didn’t see anything.

  “In the hallway downstairs.”

  “Thanks,” I wandered off without seeing anyone else.

  “Number please?” The sound from the phone sounded so normal, it made me smile.

  “Cookeville 202, please,” I told the operator. The large Bakelite handle felt light in my hand as the number dialed.

  “Cookeville, 202.” My mom answered on the second ring, her voice nowhere near as bright and cheerful as usual.

  “Hi mom, it’s me.”

  “Baby! Where are you? Are you okay?” The barrage started.

  “I’m fine mom, Jason’s car broke down.”

  “Oh, honey. Now are you alright, you know? He didn’t try anything, did he?”

  It seemed to be time to put Jason out of the picture. “Well, he kinda did, and now he’s on his own at the auto-shop.”

  “Oh, honey. I’m sorry; he looked such a nice young man.”

  “Well, it certainly was an adventure. We slept in the car last night. It wasn’t too bad, but I’m a bit stiff this morning.” I marveled at my excellent deceit. I had never lied to my parents in my life, and now it just fell off my tongue like snake-oil.

  “So where are you right now?”

  “I’m still in Rutherford, mom.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “Jason had planned to take us to a drive in movie, Around the World in Eighty days.”

  “Oh, I so love David Niven; he’s so English.” She giggled. “How are you getting home?”

  “Oh, I’ll be back soon, Mom, don’t worry.”

  I said my goodbyes, and went back upstairs. Valérie was still typing. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yup, mom didn’t ask too many questions, but I have one.”

  “Fire away, sweetie.”

  “What happened to Jason’s car?”

  “It’s probably still parked outside the hall, why?”

  “Well, I just thought I’d give myself a little early birthday present, that’s all.”

  Doctor Fabrini

  Valérie Lidowitz, 1869, Outside Florence, Italy

  I became a regular visitor to the garden. Each time I behaved, I was allowed a little further outside and for incrementally longer spans, but always with Dr. Fabrini hand gripping my wrist. All together I collected eighteen
blades of grass.

  On the next excursion, Dr. Fabrini walked me to a thicket of vegetation that hid an arched footbridge over a narrow creek. For the first time ever, he let go my wrist and motioned for me to cross of my own volition. I felt I could have jumped the creek in a single bound, but still I walked the wooden bridge, pausing to glance over the side at the still and shallow water.

  “Just there,” he said, pointing to a lattice-encased gazebo on the other side.

  I followed the direction of his finger and entered the obscene structure, instantly feeling enclosed and nervous. A half-circle of benches pushed up against the round walls. Dr. Fabrini sunk onto one as if immersing in a tub of tepid water. He motioned for me to sit upon the opposite bench and I did, the crisscrossing lattice obscuring my view of the nature around.

  “Isn’t it marvelous,” he said with a deep sigh.

  “It feels like a cage,” I replied obstinately.

  Dr. Fabrini smiled sagely, “You have an innate distaste for anything man-made, Valérie.”

  “It’s a cage!” I said again.

  “It’s a place to sit and enjoy the surroundings.”

  “I can sit on the grass and not have to squint my eyes to see my surroundings through pieces of wood, or get splinters in my feet from these weathered old boards.”

  “Shoes might be helpful to you in that department,” he shrugged, glancing down at my dirty feet.

  “Shoes keep me from feeling the grass.”

  “I see we will never agree on this subject,” he told me resolutely, “but I am quite happy to sit on this bench and enjoy the scenery from here.”

  “Grown-ups are always happiest when they’re sitting,” I accused, “a bunch of lazy, useless beings that do nothing but get in the way.”

  He leaned forward, “Get in the way of what, Valérie?”