The Vengeful Vampire

by Marissa Farrar

  Serenity stared at the blood and a sliver of malice slipped down her throat. She wanted to tell him to suck it up. He’d given her far worse injuries and she’d never been able to seek medical help. But years of silence weren’t broken in a day and she held her tongue.

  Grateful to be out of Jackson’s company, if only for a minute or two, she left the bedroom and ran downstairs. Crossing the living room to where the phone sat on a side table, she lifted the receiver and dialed 911.

  “What’s your emergency?” asked the tinny voice of the operator.

  “I need an ambulance.”

  “Can you describe the incident, Ma’am?”

  “My husband’s had an accident in the bedroom,” she said and a bark of hysterical laughter almost escaped her. She managed to clamp her mouth shut and the laugh came out as a strange, strangled cough. Images of Jackson in some weird perverted mess with a pair of handcuffs and a candlestick danced through her mind. Hysteria lurked perilously close to the surface but if she gave in, Jackson would kill her.

  “I was attacked,” Jackson shouted, still finding the strength to try and control her actions. “Tell them I need the police as well!”

  For once Serenity ignored him; she gave the operator their address and hung up. Taking a deep breath, she made her way back up to the bedroom.

  “Jackson,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed. She sounded authoritative, not like herself at all, and her tone made him look up. “What are you planning to tell the police? That some invisible intruder attacked you? The first thing they’re going to ask is if you’ve been drinking, which you clearly have, and then they’ll send you for psychiatric tests.”

  He opened his mouth to protest and shut it again.

  Serenity knew he’d been weakened by his injuries, but even this small victory lodged like a powerful rock inside her.

  But she had to wonder, what did happen? Jackson didn’t leap backward by himself and she couldn’t ignore the shock on his face. Her husband hadn’t jumped off voluntarily, but she was crazy to think the man she’d met today had somehow saved her and then promptly disappeared.

  She found her gaze drifting to the window where the full length drapes lifted and flapped in the breeze.

  Something stirred within her; shouting that something wasn’t right. She stared at the window, trying to figure out what nagged her.

  Realization dawned.

  They never slept with the window open. Jackson always complained about the amount of noise from the road, especially first thing in the morning when everyone else left to go to work or take their children to school. If there was a breeze, it meant the window was open.

  Serenity got to her feet and pulled the sheets around her, most of them trailing out behind like the train of a wedding dress.

  “Serenity?” Jackson called out, but she ignored him and continued to the window.

  Goosebumps rose on her skin, prickling their way down her naked arms. With a shaking hand, she reached out and touched the thick, cream-colored fabric. Did someone hide behind them, the same someone who had helped her? She paused for a moment, taking a shallow, jittery breath, and then whipped back the drape.

  The empty window stood ajar, looking down onto the street below. Serenity frowned and stepped forward, craning her neck to peer out into the night. No solitary figure stood in the street, yet someone must have used the window to enter and leave the room. Did they balance on the ledge, pull the window partially shut behind them, and jump?

  No, she shook her head. Impossible.

  Just like it’s impossible how someone threw Jackson across the room without being seen.

  “Serenity?” Jackson said again, irritation coloring his voice. His initial shock faded, he was waking up. “Serenity, what the fuck are you doing? Get over here and help me up.”

  I should leave him there, she thought. I should step over him and walk out the door.

  But what she should do and what she did do were two different things. Where would she go? She had no friends or family, and their bank balance would only buy her a couple of nights in a motel. Besides, he would find her. He would find her and he would make her sorry.

  I’ll know the right time to go.

  For years, she’d told herself something inside would tell her when the time was right to leave. She had no idea when that would be. Maybe she was making excuses to herself—a coward giving herself a get out—but that was how she felt.

  Deep down, she hoped someone, somewhere, would find it in their heart to help her. She wasn’t strong enough to walk out on her own.

  Reluctantly, she helped her injured husband onto the bed.

  Chapter Three

  The ambulance took almost twenty minutes to arrive and by the time the sirens cut through the night air, Serenity stood outside her front gate waiting to usher them in.

  She didn’t care about her husband’s state of health, but the longer they took, the more time there was for him to come out of his doped-up stupor and beat the living crap out of her. At least now an ambulance would be ready.

  Two men jumped out of the vehicle; a younger one with short dark hair, and a slightly chunky man in his late forties. Serenity didn’t speak, she just showed them up the stairs to the bedroom where Jackson lay on the bed.

  “What happened?” the older of the paramedics asked.

  Serenity glanced at Jackson, but he wouldn’t meet her eye.

  “We were fooling around,” he said, his voice dull. “I slipped.”

  The two paramedics took in the sight of her wearing her bathrobe and Jackson in his shorts, and they shared a glance of their own. They would be drinking out on this one tonight. Serenity could hear their voices now, ‘You should’ve seen the state of what this guy’s missus did to him! Must be an animal in bed!’

  Screw them, she thought. They don’t know what they’re dealing with.

  The older paramedic examined him. “Doesn’t look too bad, but we better take you in for observation. Chances are, you’ve got a concussion and will have a headache for a couple of days, but we’d better be sure”

  “Where are you taking him?” she asked finally.

  “Good Sams, the hospital down on Wilshire Boulevard,” he said. “It’s the closest one to here with an emergency room.” He took her question as concern. “Don’t worry; you can ride in the back.”

  Jackson turned to her. “You’ll come with me, won’t you, Baby?” he asked, turning into a little boy when it suited him. “You know how much I hate hospitals.”

  She forced a smile, “Sure.”

  The ambulance moved silently down the freeway, not needing the siren since Jackson clearly wasn’t about to die anytime soon.

  Serenity sat on the narrow bench beside the gurney. The younger of the paramedics, John—according to his name badge—sat opposite her.

  Jackson lay between them. He’d fallen into a heavy sleep and still managed to snore, despite the oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth.

  Serenity rested her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. She had thrown on a sweater and a pair of jeans before they left, diminishing the scrutiny of the paramedics. Though she avoided the young paramedic’s eye he still attempted to make small talk, resulting in perfunctory one word answers. She didn’t want to be rude—impoliteness wasn’t in her nature—but she couldn’t discuss the weather or the latest Dodgers game when she had so much more on her mind.

  With a loud thud, something landed on the roof and the ambulance swerved, pulling into another lane. Serenity lurched to one side as the vehicle fought against the control of the driver. Someone behind them blasted their horn.

  “What the..?” John glanced up at the roof.

  The driver got the ambulance back under control and shouted back, “You guys all right? I’ve no idea what that was!”

  “A bird?” Serenity suggested, thinking one of the big pelicans dropping out of the sky might cause such a big thump.

  “It didn’t bounce,” John said
thoughtfully, half to himself. “A bird would have bounced.”

  Whatever landed on the roof had been big, really big. If Serenity thought in the terms of an animal, it would have been closer to a Great Dane than a bird.

  They both glanced back up at the roof of the ambulance. Was something still there? Perched, waiting? The interior of the rig seemed to have shrunk down to toy size. A chill ran down Serenity’s back and she saw the paramedic shiver as well.

  “Not far now,” John said, seeming to try to reassure himself as well as her.

  She nodded, but said nothing.

  Someone was there; both of them felt the presence.

  Is it you?

  She sent the thought out with every concentration of her soul. God, I’m losing my mind. Why would a man be on the roof of the ambulance? How the hell would he even get there? She must be crazy to be having such thoughts. She probably was—what with all the stress she’d been under—but that didn’t stop her believing.

  They pulled into the unloading bay at the hospital. Jackson woke at the vehicle’s change of motion. He tried to roll over, discovered straps held him to the gurney, and went back to sleep.

  “It’s the bump,” John told her, mistaking her worried expression for concern. “It’s normal for him to want to sleep.”

  Serenity started to climb out of the ambulance, but instead of climbing down from the back, she stood up. Ignoring the paramedic’s look of surprise, she hooked her fingers over the edge of the roof and pulled herself up so her elbows took her weight.

  Whatever had hit was no longer there but the metal was dented inward. No blood, or feathers, or even fur indicated an animal had landed on the roof, but she hadn’t been looking for that, had she? Instead, she reached out a hand as best she could and traced her fingers across the indentations.

  Footprints?

  She dropped down to find John staring at her. “Anything?” he asked.

  Serenity smiled and shook her head. “Must have been a ghost,” she said, wondering if she was so far from the truth.

  The paramedics admitted Jackson and a couple of nurses transferred him to another gurney in a shared bay. Three other men occupied the space, ranging from an old man whose fragility was exposed as he slept, to a young guy, not far out of his teens, with tattooed sleeves covering both arms. He too slept, but in the zonked out way people did when they were either sleeping off an overdose of drink or drugs, or a combination of both.

  Serenity could do nothing more. The woman at reception gave her a pile of paperwork on a clipboard to fill in and she hugged the board to her chest. She hoped her medical insurance was still valid and her work hadn’t yet notified the company about her being fired. Hopefully, the claim would slip through the net, but if it didn’t she was in even more trouble.

  A heavy sigh escaped her and she stood up. The restaurant must still be open, despite the late hour. She desperately needed some caffeine.

  Strips of long fluorescent lights lit up the cafeteria with a harsh, unnatural light.

  Blocks of tables and benches reminded Serenity of her school canteen, soulless and unloved. Behind the aluminum, heated display cabinet, a tired-looking woman in an apron gave her a half-hearted smile as she walked in. Floor to ceiling windows made up the far wall, giving a view out on a small patch of yard for the hospital residents.

  A lone figure sat in the corner of the restaurant, their face turned to the window. Above the person’s head, the fluorescent strip light had blown, and the figure sat in partial darkness.

  Serenity’s heart caught in her chest. She didn’t need light to know the person’s identity. Even though she had only spent moments with him, she would recognize the breadth of his shoulders, the angle of his jaw and the curve of his forearms anywhere.

  She stopped dead in the middle of the room. Blood rushed through her ears, thumping like horses’ hooves in her head. Adrenaline flowed like water; speeding up her heart, making her hands tremble.

  “Can I help you, love?” the woman behind the counter called to her.

  Serenity couldn’t respond. She stood frozen. Part of her wanted to turn and run, the other part of her wanted to fall to her knees and weep, but she stared, inert.

  Then he turned, his beautiful eyes focusing on hers, despite the gloom surrounding him, and she found herself able to walk again.

  “Are you okay?” the woman asked. This time Serenity managed to give her a smile and nod of reassurance, but her eyes never left the man sitting by the window.

  She walked toward him as though gliding on water. As she approached, he got to his feet.

  “What are you doing here?” she tried to say, but her voice came out as a whisper.

  “I’m visiting someone.”

  “Oh? A family member? A friend?”

  “It’s good to see you again,” he said, not answering her question.

  “It’s strange seeing you again. Small world, I guess.”

  He gestured to the seat opposite him. “Will you sit with me a while? Allow me to buy you a coffee?”

  The act seemed so normal in such surreal circumstances and she grasped onto the lifeline he presented.

  “Coffee,” she repeated. “Yes, coffee would be good.”

  He brushed past her as he headed to the counter, sending a thrill of goose bumps up her arm. She stood watching his broad back as he walked away, then sat heavily, her legs weak.

  He was here. God, he was here!

  She didn’t dare take her eyes off him, fearing he would turn out to be a figment of her over-stressed imagination. As he paid the woman behind the counter, he caught her watching and gave her a smile she wanted to pack up and take home.

  He returned with two cups of thick, dark coffee. In her nervousness, she took a sip too quickly and burned her mouth.

  “Careful,” he said with a smile, his green eyes lighting up. “The coffee’s hot.”

  She couldn’t help but smile back. “Thanks, I think I figured that one out.”

  “Your husband is here.”

  The sentence wasn’t a question but she answered with a nod.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “He had a... accident.” She glanced up at him. For reasons beyond understanding, an underlying current of truth ran beneath their words, but neither of them tapped into it.

  The strangeness of the evening made her head hurt. She couldn’t explain what had happened in her bedroom, but she remembered her initial reaction—the face of the man before her, flashing in her mind.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked again.

  “I needed to make sure you were all right.”

  His words made her heart race and the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. He was here for her.

  “What happened to my husband?” she asked, barely believing the words had left her mouth.

  “What happened to you?”

  She looked up, her eyes fierce. “Answer the question!”

  His eyes grew dark under his furrowed brow. He pressed his lips together as though he had to control himself before answering. “He didn’t get anything he wasn’t asking for. In my opinion, he got off lightly.”

  “So it was you!” Anger bubbled within her. “Why ask me? Are you just another controlling man who likes to screw around with a woman’s head?”

  He sat back, astonished at her fury. Then he leaned forward and took her hand across the table. She caught her breath at the touch of his skin on hers and the anger melted away like a night’s snowfall under the day’s first rays of sun. She saw worry in his face; in the creases at the corners of his eyes, in the lines between his eyebrows.

  “No, never,” he said. “I didn’t know how much you had figured out for yourself. I didn’t want to scare you.”

  “Scare me? It’s a bit late for that!” she sat back, shaking her head. “But how? How did you get into the bedroom? And the ambulance, that was you on the roof?”

  He nodded.

  “What are you? An acrobat
, or a magician, or...” She trailed off, at a loss for ideas. “Something?” she finished weakly.

  “Yeah,” he lowered his head and a lock of thick black hair fell across his forehead. “Something.”

  “But how did you get in and out of the room without us seeing you?”

  “I can’t explain exactly. Try to think of it as a trick of the light, an optical illusion.”