I pressed myself against the wall so I wouldn’t be seen right away, and for the first time, I saw the door open. A big burly man stuck his head in, and as soon as he saw Martin wriggling on the floor, he hissed, “Shit!” and started to pull back. But he was too slow. I grabbed his shirt and yanked him the rest of the way into the room.
In retrospect, I should have left the two men there and run for it, but at the time, I had no idea what was outside the door or how many others might be nearby. I needed information about what was going on before I leapt from the frying pan into the fire.
So I let the door shut behind us as I pushed the new man across the room, where he slammed up against the wall. He was wearing a maroon smock with gray trim, with pants to match. Embroidered in flowery letters on the front of the shirt were the words Anemone & Lime, and underneath it said George.
George was staring at me, saying, “Shit shit shit shit shit,” over and over again, while Martin yelled, “Untie me, you idiot!”
“Quiet, both of you,” I snapped.
They obeyed as quickly as if I’d flipped a switch.
“You,” I said, pointing at George. “Who else works here?”
“There’s a crew of like twenty guys out there, and they’re going to be in here in a minute if you don’t let us out right now.”
“You’re a terrible liar,” I said in a conversational tone. “How many, really?”
He looked rebellious but said, “Just two of us in this wing, this time of day. You’ve got to let us out!”
“I don’t think I do.” A moment later, a loud buzzer went off, and I heard something click in the door. “What was that?”
“Lockdown,” he said, and now he was sweating. “The door won’t open until morning.”
“You must have a key,” I said.
He shook his head. “If I had a key, I swear I’d let you out. I don’t want to be in here with you!”
While I kept an eye on him, I tried the door, pulling at it as hard as I could, with far more strength than I’d ever had before, but it wouldn’t budge.
“I’m telling you it won’t open,” George said. “Not until dawn.”
Martin said, “Somebody must know we’re in here. They have to let us out.”
George shook his head. “Nobody is going to risk letting her out, not when she hasn’t had a meal.”
“It’s because they’re afraid of me, isn’t it?” I said.
George nodded. Clearly he was petrified.
“Then I am . . . I’ve become . . .”
He nodded again.
“How?”
“Somebody . . . you know . . . bit you.”
“Claudio,” I said.
“What are you talking about?” Martin asked. “You mean, you didn’t drug her to play dead? She isn’t just a whore?”
I said, “No, I’m starting to think that I’m more than that. And George here is going to tell me everything he knows about what I can do.”
It took a couple of hours, and several more threats, to drain George dry. Metaphorically, that is, as I posed question after question.
The literal draining started immediately thereafter.
Afterward, I took off the cheerleader clothes, showered, put on my regular robe, and spent the rest of the evening rereading magazines. When I felt tired, I used the bed for the first time. The floor was too dirty.
Nothing in the room had changed when I woke. I was assuming my room was still on lockdown—George had said it was protocol in case one of the “girls” couldn’t be controlled. Yes, there were other women with other gifts being held at Anemone & Lime—some were even willing. I just happened to be the only one with my particular gifts currently in residence.
I checked Martin’s phone, pleased when I saw it was five minutes earlier than I’d woken the day before. Apparently I was progressing much faster than those in my situation usually did.
I showered again quickly, then looked at the available clothing options. Definitely not the cheerleader outfit. I could have made do with George’s smock and pants, though the fit would have been loose, but he’d pissed himself the night before. That left Martin’s suit. There was no shirt, since I’d used it to tie him up, and his undershirt smelled too much like him for me to stomach wearing it. But if I kept the jacket buttoned and belted the pants tightly enough to keep them up, I’d be decently covered. For shoes, I had the cheery red-and-white oxfords.
With that done, I sat down to wait. I wasn’t hungry yet, and I’d already finished with the magazines, but Martin had some games on his phone to keep me amused until I felt the call George had warned me would be coming.
Call was far too mild a word. It was more of a pull, an urgent compulsion—I knew I had to get to Claudio as soon as possible. The door was still locked, and being blocked was physically hurting me. I was ready to try beating it down with my bare hands when a note was slipped through the crack underneath it.
When the door opens, follow the path. A car will be waiting. Drive to Claudio.
DO NOT STOP OR YOU WILL BE PUNISHED.
I had to smile. Even knowing that Claudio was calling me, the employees of Anemone & Lime were frightened of what I might do. They had nothing to worry about, at least for the time being. I picked up the souvenirs I was taking with me and waited until the door clicked open. Sloppily taped-up arrows showed the way, and I saw no one and nothing but closed doors until I reached an open one that led to an underground garage. Just past the door was a car, keys in the ignition and the motor already running, and in a few minutes I was on my way.
I didn’t know where Anemone & Lime was in relation to Claudio’s brownstone, but I didn’t need to know. I just followed the call. As long as I kept going toward Claudio, I felt fine. If I stopped, even for a traffic light, I started to feel a constricting pain in my throat. To go in a different direction or to pause any longer than absolutely necessary was unthinkable.
An hour and a half later, I pulled up in front of the now-familiar brownstone. A man I’d seen in Claudio’s offices was holding a parking place on the street for me, but he stayed far away as I pulled in. The call was so strong that I was nearly running as I went in the door and up the stairs to where Claudio was waiting.
Only when I saw him in front of me did the call stop.
The bastard was smiling.
He held both hands out to me. “My dear Taylor, you have so impressed me. Not even six months since I brought you over! I would never have been out of reach at such a delicate time had I suspected such a thing would happen. You were destined for this life. None of my children have ever regained their senses so soon.”
“Your children?”
“The children of my blood. Those whom I have raised, the ones who answer to me.”
“Then you’re a—we’re both—”
“Don’t be afraid of the word. Vampire.”
I’d known since the previous night, of course, but knowing it and hearing it were very different. “And now I answer to you?”
“Think of yourself as my direct report, if you prefer.” He waggled his finger at me. “I know I should be angry at you for what happened last night, but how can I be? You’ve regained yourself so quickly and can soon begin your work for me.”
“After you—” I stopped myself. I’d planned what I was going to say and do, and I wasn’t going to go off script now. “Why did you put me in that place?”
“A newly born vampire is a rapacious thing, more appetite than person, difficult to control and expensive to feed. Though you were and always will be incapable of harming me, anyone else would have been in grave danger until you recovered yourself. So some years back, I made an arrangement with a man who caters to a certain kind of clientele. He feeds and houses my new ones, and in return makes use of them.” He cocked his head. “Surely you’re not angry about events that took place when you were insensible? There was no permanent damage—that is part of our arrangement.”
“An arrangement that impresses u
pon your children that you are completely in charge. A probation of sorts.”
“Of course, it’s not really necessary. You have no choice but to obey me.” His voice sharpened. “On your knees.”
I complied instantly, without thought. And hated him for it.
“You see? From this moment on, as long as you continue to exist, you must obey any order I give you. If I tell you to crawl to me, you will do so. If I tell you to return to Anemone & Lime and service men while you’re fully aware, you will do so. If I tell you to walk into the sun, you will not rest until you are destroyed. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly. May I rise now?”
“Of course.” He even offered a hand to help me. “You must be hungry, and you’ll want to see your quarters. Tonight is for recuperation—tomorrow night will be soon enough to begin your duties.”
“I wouldn’t dream of delaying any further,” I said. “You’ve waited nearly six months for someone to take over—there’s no need to wait another night.”
“Ah, you are remarkable, Taylor,” he purred.
I did accept a meal of blood—poured from a crystal decanter and sipped from a goblet rather than sucked out of a pouch—but then went right to work. First was a tour of the brownstone and an introduction to the servants. All were human—Claudio’s other “children” were scattered around the country. He hinted that they were taking care of other activities for him but would say no more. Nor would he say what had happened to my predecessor, the vampire who’d previously managed his money. I knew better than to push.
Claudio had already arranged an office for me, but we worked in his as he showed me reports about his financial holdings. Though I’d wanted to get started immediately for my own reasons, I could see why he was eager to take me up on the offer. The six months of my “probation” had left some items in a precarious position. He claimed he had no interest in such matters, but I suspected the real answer was that he had no understanding of how money needs to be looked after in a modern world and was all too happy to hand over all his account numbers and passwords, even his safety-deposit key and the combination to his safe. As long as his assets continued to grow, he said, he was happy to leave it all under my control. What he’d do to me if those assets didn’t grow was left unspoken, but I had no doubt that he’d have plenty of ideas.
Having something meaty to think about after all those months was nearly as satisfying as drinking blood, but not so much so that I didn’t detect something stirring within me a couple of hours later. I mentally reviewed the mass of information I’d been given and decided that it would be enough for me to take the next step. If I was missing anything, I’d just have to track it down afterward.
I resisted the impulse to smile, not wanting to tip my hand, and instead rubbed my eyes even though I wasn’t sure my eyes could get weary anymore.
“Tired, my dear?” Claudio asked.
“Yes, and no.” I stretched as alluringly as I could manage, stood, and unbuttoned the suit coat I was wearing far enough that he could see I was wearing neither bra nor shirt under it. “I do have a question. Do we . . . ?” I smiled, as if embarrassed by being so forward. “Do vampires make love?”
“Indeed we do,” he said.
I slowly took off my clothes, letting everything fall to the floor except those red cheerleader panties, which I twirled on my finger a moment before letting them slip onto the desk.
“Shall we go to my room?” he said, but since it was an invitation rather than a command, I could resist.
“No, here. Here is where we met, here is where you brought me into this life. Let’s do it here.” I pushed papers and folders onto the floor and leaned up against the desk.
He sauntered over, and I began to caress him through his clothes as I sent out my own call. Claudio’s touch was sure and practiced, and I writhed against him, moaning loudly and crying out to make him think I found him as skilled a lover as he thought he was. So he never heard the commotion from outside the room as it came closer.
At the very last moment, I grasped his head with both hands and pulled his mouth to mine, kissing him so hard that I tasted his blood.
That’s when George burst through the door.
Claudio had described a new vampire as rapacious, and George certainly looked the part. Not one spark of intelligence was left in his eyes, only hunger. I was almost afraid at first, even though I knew I was the only one on earth safe from him.
I’d made him.
“Kill this man, now!” I ordered.
Claudio opened his mouth, no doubt ready to command me to defend him or to stop the other vampire or . . . Whatever he’d intended, it didn’t matter. As soon as George made his entrance, I’d grabbed the red panties from the desk and now I rammed them into Claudio’s mouth. Of course he tried to pull them out, but before he could, George was on him.
I’d noticed that Claudio was small when I first met him, and I suspected he used his vampire wiles far more often than he did actual strength. George, on the other hand, was a big man and intent on tearing and ripping and pulling the other vampire apart.
I hadn’t specified a method for killing Claudio—apparently I hadn’t needed to.
There was an odd twinge in my neck, as if a necklace had tightened before breaking loose. Then Claudio burst into dust, and the red panties dropped to the carpet.
George was panting, and I quickly found the decanter of blood from which Claudio had poured my meal and helped the starving vampire drain it. Then he collapsed, replete. If a vampire could snore, he would have been doing so.
I’d bitten Martin the night before, too, but he was just dead. That was to be expected. George hadn’t been positive how vampires were made—all he’d known was the gossip Anemone & Lime employees had shared while slurping coffee in the break room. One theory was that anyone drained to death would rise again. Another said that the sire had to nearly drain a person and then make the victim suck some of his blood in return. Since I’d had two subjects available, I’d tried both methods.
I hadn’t been completely sure which man would rise, so I’d brought both. Dragging the bodies behind me hadn’t prevented me from answering Claudio’s call, and the Anemone & Lime employees hadn’t dared to interfere. When I arrived at Claudio’s home, I left the men in the trunk of the car, safely covered with a blanket. As soon as I felt the new vampire stir, I’d begun my seduction of Claudio.
I made a mental note to have Martin’s body taken care of, but for the moment, I had more urgent concerns. I needed to see if any of the servants had survived, and to inform those survivors that the brownstone was now mine.
I also had to reach out to Claudio’s other so-called children. They’d probably felt him die just as I had, and it was my guess that they’d be grateful for their deliverance. If not, I’d point out that I already had control of Claudio’s finances. Surely, arrangements could be made.
My highest priority was to find a safe place for George to complete the six months of his probation period. After all, for the time being he was my only direct report.
SHADOW AND THIRST
JOHN LANGAN
The tower was there when they returned from their early-morning dog walk. August saw it first, squatting in the meadow at the foot of the hill behind his father and stepmother’s house. It was round, dun colored, maybe ten feet high, ten wide. “Hey,” he said, “what’s that?”
Tony, his father, looked up from Orlando the pit bull, who was rolling in the damp grass, grunting happily. “What?”
“Down there.” August pointed. “That’s still your property, right?”
“All the way to the stream and halfway up the other side.” Tony squinted; he wasn’t wearing his glasses. “That looks a bit too elaborate for your little brother to have built by himself. Huh. Guess I’d better have a look at it. You want to come, Officer?”
August had yet to decide whether his father’s use of his job title was ironic or conciliatory, a sign of displeasure at his decisi
on to drop out of college and join the Newark city police department or an indication of Tony’s acceptance of his choice. “Sure,” he said, “let’s check it out.”
“It’s probably something the neighbors’ kid put up,” Tony said. “The boy’s quite the budding filmmaker; we’ve let him shoot a couple of his movies here. I played King Arthur in one of them. I bet this is connected to his latest project. Come on, Orlando.” He tugged the dog’s leash. Orlando snorted and twisted to his feet.
When they started down the hill, however, the dog planted his feet firmly and would not move. “Orlando, come,” Tony said. “Come on, big guy, move.” Orlando whined and pulled backward. “Orlando,” Tony said, more sharply. “Orlando, come!” In response, the dog’s whines were succeeded by a chain of high-pitched barks, almost yelps.
“Man,” August said, “he does not like that thing.”
“Apparently,” Tony said.
“You want me to take him inside?”
“If you wouldn’t mind,” Tony said, passing him the end of the leash. “I’ll go check out the round, squat turret.”
“The what?”
“It’s from a poem by Robert Browning, ‘Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came.’ ”
August nodded at the dog, who was straining toward the house. “Doesn’t look like this Roland read it.”
Tony laughed. “Just as well. Things don’t turn out so well for the guy in the poem.”
“Give me a minute and I’ll come with you.”
“Don’t worry about it. I think Rebecca said she was making waffles. Get started and I’ll join you in a minute.”
“All right, Professor,” August said. He watched his father start toward the prop, a heavyset, middle-aged man wearing white karate pants and a white T-shirt, his bald spot pinkly visible through the hair he kept long to conceal it. Unexpectedly, August’s throat was tight, his eyes burning. What the hell? But before he could answer his own question, Orlando lunged in the direction of the back door, almost yanking him off his feet. “Okay, okay,” he said to the dog, “we’re going.”
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