by L. A. Banks
“I wish.” I tore away the foil.
“I know you’re not going to drink that stuff in front of me.”
“Uh, okay.”
Somehow I always thought being a vampire would be more romantic than sitting on a toilet guzzling blood from a plastic bag.
But I drank it all. I’d need my strength for tonight.
The cell phone vibrated. It was Andre. “It’s almost dark,” he said.
“I’m over at Loretta’s. I’ll be home in a few moments.”
“If you aren’t, I’m coming to get you.”
If only he knew how much more dangerous the dark was for him than me.
“I’ll be home shortly.”
“You staying for dinner?” Loretta called through the door. “I’m making catfish and coleslaw. Got corn bread and potato salad too.”
“See what I’m missing?”
“Sounds good. But I ordered Chinese. It’s waiting.” He clicked off.
It sounded like coagulated dead fish flesh, weeds, roots and grease to me. Catfish used to be my favorite, but my stomach recoiled. “No, thanks,” I hollered to Loretta. “I better get. Andre is expecting me back home.”
“We need to talk,” Andre said as soon as I walked through the door. Every inner alarm I had went off because from most men, hearing those words are rare unless it’s dire. Andre is more of a doer than a talker.
I sank on the sofa. He sat down beside me and took my hand. “I’m going to kill the vampire tonight.”
I could have cried with both relief and trepidation. He wasn’t going to break the engagement or something equally awful because of my new weirdness. Now all I had to do is to talk him out of his wild scheme and kill the bitch myself.
“How are you going to do that?”
“I’m going to blow her head off.”
I swallowed hard. That might do it. With my new powers of instant healing, even a gunshot might not stop me…or her. But if he took off her head…
“I can’t let you die.”
“I’m not going to die,” he said.
I started. I didn’t realize I said it out loud.
“We could find out where she sleeps. Don’t vampires sleep very soundly?” I asked.
He shook his head. “We’re not going to be able to find her. I’ve tried for years. The only way to get her is to draw her out. I’m going back to my house, Joy. Tonight.”
“One look and she can make you do whatever she wants you to do.”
“She’s not going to see me.”
“How is that?”
“I’ve had this idea in my head for a while. I have a high-powered sniper’s rifle. I’ll be on the roof with it when she comes.”
I drew in a breath. “It’s too risky.”
“It’s the only way. She’s a cold-blooded killer and she’s toyed with me for years. But now she’s threatening my family.”
A giant lump lodged in my throat. His family. He considered me his family. It was everything I ever wanted, but it was too late. I was the thing that he hated most, damned and unnatural. I took a breath, held it, and let it out slowly. I had to tell him. I couldn’t live a lie with the man I loved.
“I have something to tell you, too.” He opened his mouth to say something, but I held up my hand. “Let me finish first. This is hard…Dahlia did more than touch me, that night in the club. She…she…”
He sat down beside me and caught my hands. “Shhh. I know. You couldn’t help it any more than I could.”
“There’s more.”
The caressing motion of his fingers stilled.
“When I came in the house you were on top of her. Fucking her. She looked at me and I couldn’t move. Then she bit you on the neck.”
Tears dripped from my eyes as I relived the moment.
“Eventually she broke her gaze, just for a moment, but that was enough. I jumped on her and Andre, I—”
I was unable to go on. Saying it was too hard.
He lifted my chin and wiped my wet cheeks with a tissue. He dropped a feather-light kiss on my lips. “Tell me what happened.”
“I bit her. I bit her hard.”
“You did what?”
“Okay, basically I ripped her throat out with my teeth. There was a lot of blood.”
He looked aghast. “Why?”
“She bit your throat. At the time payback seemed like a good idea. And it was really the only way I could get to her and hold on. She was incredibly strong.”
He looked worried, but said nothing. He turned to me, waiting for more. He was smart enough to know there had to be more.
“Her blood seems to have uh, turned me into a vampire.”
“What?”
“I think it’s a blood-borne virus.”
“Slow down. What do you mean, turned you into a vampire?” He was pacing now.
“Uh, the whole sunlight will burn you up, blood drinking, vampire thing.”
He stood still and stared at me. “Is that why you’ve been sleeping all day and not eating?”
“Yes. Food smells disgusting.”
He sighed, running his hand over his head.
I couldn’t seem to shut up. “I see ghosts now. What might be demons too, but I’m not about to focus on that with all the crap I’m going through right now.”
He sank down in a chair across from the couch and stared at me.
“When were you going to tell me?”
“I was sort of hoping I wouldn’t have to, but it’s hard to hide with the blood drinking and all.”
“Blood drinking,” he echoed. “Are you telling me you’re biting people and drinking their blood?”
“Heavens, no! That would be gross. I’m getting it from the hospital blood banks.”
“Gross?”
“Hell, yeah.”
Silence lengthened between us.
“So, I’m going with you,” I said, too brightly. “I better find some weapons.”
I left him sitting on the edge of my recliner, staring into space and went to look to see what lethal items I had around the house. I wished I had a sword or something equally stylish, but I dug around in my closet and found a hatchet that I’d taken camping once and a big knife. I had some Mace, and I had intended to buy a gun, but I kept putting it off because I was ambivalent about the whole gun control issue and it would also mean I’d have to learn to shoot the thing.
Andre started cooking up a storm. He always cooked when he was upset.
Why couldn’t I tell him about my choice? About how things had changed, about how I was teetering on the edge of hell, able to peer in if I wanted to?
I needed his strong shoulder and his strength to lean on, but I knew why I didn’t tell him—because I was scared he’d reject me. I know he loves me, but how can I put it? He’s bad, but he doesn’t respect evil. Andre spent time in jail, but it wasn’t for doing anything evil, he’s not capable of it.
He got on the wrong side of a drug sweep. He was working. In East Oakland, what other work is there?
I could see how he’d be irresistible to a vampire, and he could hang with one, but he’d never love one back. Never. My eyes wet up again and I sniffed. I never heard of a crying vampire, but it seemed like that was all I did.
The important thing was that we were going to kill Dahlia together. Then we’d figure out what was going to come next.
Chapter Nine
* * *
Andre didn’t protest when I said I wanted to stay outside the house and keep her eyes on me and away from him. I was fairly sure I was immune to her powers. A frisson of fear ran through me when I realized that then he could take me out as readily as he took out Dahlia.
He got his equipment and settled in position while I hid myself in some shrubbery on the side where I could see both the front and back entrances. We’d been in place only twenty or thirty minutes when a white Mercedes SL 450 pulled up.
I tensed. This was it. She stepped out, then reached and pulled something out of the backs
eat. Somebody else.
I hissed as I recognized Loretta. She dragged my friend in front of her, keeping her close. Dahlia wasn’t dumb. She’d been watching us and knew it was a set-up.
I stepped out of the bushes, hatchet in hand. “Let her go.”
“Gladly.” She plunged a knife in Loretta’s back. My friend’s eyes widened and she went down without a sound. I was frozen, unbelieving and stricken at what had taken place.
“She wasn’t worth eating,” she said and threw the knife on the body. All this time she didn’t stop moving, swaying back and forth, making her a poor target.
“That’s Andre’s knife, by the way. His prints are all over it.” She held up her latex gloved hand, pulled it off and dropped it into her jacket pocket. “Looks like my boy Andre is going back to jail. Such a shame for a pretty boy to spend the rest of his life there. But he’ll have lots of friends, won’t you, Andre?”
I heard a muffled pop from Andre’s silencer and Dahlia’s shoulder exploded in a large rosette of blood. She looked up. With a cry Andre fell off the roof.
I charged. We met like freight trains, and knocked each other to the ground.
“Vamp slut, you’re going to die tonight,” I swore, scrambling to my feet. Her shoulder was healing before my eyes, but she still favored it, wheeling to face me with her other side.
“You’re judging me, fool? I see you made your choice. Nice that the Most High makes it so black and white, huh? Die or be damned. You’re as damned as I am, blood drinker. We’re both together in hell and you know what? We’re going to be here forever.”
I raised my hatchet and started to charge at her again, but another silenced shot rang out. This time it was her head that bloomed and disappeared.
Vampires just don’t turn to dust and drift away. I wish it was that easy. But we do have powers and we’re close to the astral, or hell on earth, as I call it.
I reached into a nearby shadow and it opened. I picked up Dahlia’s body and slid it into hell where it belonged. It disappeared into the darkness.
I jumped as I saw a light shining behind me. There was Loretta, looking again like the girls we’d once been together, all the past years and mistakes gone. “Make sure my kids are all right. Keep them out of the system. Please, girl. If you can’t, I know your man will.”
I nodded.
She turned away. A look of joy was on her face as she let the light take her to the place I’d never be able to go.
Sorrow filled me.
Andre approached, his steps slow and weary. He picked up the knife off Loretta’s body. “Get rid of this and the gun.”
“It’s over,” I said.
He nodded, but didn’t look at me.
I stashed the knife and gun in hell, where they would never be found.
Then I went to get Loretta’s children. I packed their little bags, told them I’d answer their questions later, but for now they were coming over Aunt Joy’s house. It was testimony to the upheaval in their lives that they weren’t too fazed.
I tucked them into our one bed. Andre would have to sleep on the couch. Me, I don’t need to sleep at all.
Andre walked in an hour later, looking exhausted and drawn.
“I got Loretta’s kids. They’re in our bed.”
He sighed with what sounded like relief and went to the kitchen. He returned with a bottle of wine and a glass. “I was worried that Dahlia had disposed of them.”
He poured a glass. I missed that before he’d never drink without offering me some. There was a chasm between us that wasn’t there before my confession.
“What happened at the house with Loretta?” I asked.
“Later. I need to shower.”
I flicked channels on the television as I waited. Of course Andre was freaked out, but we’d work it out. We had to.
He came out a little later, completely dressed.
“Aren’t you going to bed?” I asked. “I made up the sofa.”
He didn’t answer. “I told the police that I was looking out the window because I heard loud fighting,” he said instead. “Somebody pulled up in a white Mercedes. All of a sudden Loretta ran out toward my house and a man followed her. He grabbed her. Then she crumpled to the ground and he ran away.” Andre ran his hand over his hair. “Dahlia’s gone and they’ll think her car was stolen. There’s nothing to connect her and me. Loretta’s system is full of crack so they’ll assume she was in for the ride doing what crack hoes do.”
“Loretta wasn’t just a crack ho.”
“No?”
I shook my head.
“Wake the kids, I’m taking them home,” he said.
“You want us to go back to your place tonight?”
“No. Just the kids and I are going. You’re a vampire. You made your choice.”
“Andre?”
“I’m sorry, but I’ve lived in the thrall of a vampire for the past ten years, since I was seventeen. How can I tell if you’re not controlling me? I can’t deal with that for the rest of my life.”
“I’ve never considered controlling you. Never. Do you really think I’m evil? I love you, Andre.”
“I heard what Dahlia said to you. You made a choice, the same one as she made. You didn’t tell me.”
“No. No.”
“Was she lying?”
I was silent.
“Did you willfully choose to go against God? Did you drink human blood?”
I stared at him with wide, wet eyes. My throat was dry, my tongue paralyzed.
“So she wasn’t lying. I’m sorry, Joy, but I can’t. I’ve been to the dark side and I don’t want to live there any more. I love you, but I can’t trust you. So it’s got to be goodbye.”
He stood. Something inside me broke. He was leaving and there was nothing I could say or do, because he had the right to live without fear.
“Are you going to turn Loretta’s kids over to foster care?” He wasn’t taking them if he was. I’d live here on the edge of hell if I had to, but I’d get those kids raised somehow.
“No. I’m going to raise them. I’ve seen the look on your face when you talk about them. You love those kids and I’m going to love them too.”
All the breath went out of my body as I realized it was his final gift to me. I knew he would love Loretta’s children, not only because he said so and he was a man true to his word, but because they were lovable. Andre finally had his family.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
The pain in his gaze was raw as he inclined his head, looked away and turned to go into the bedroom.
I slipped out the door because the last goodbye was one that was too hard for me to do.
I walked the night streets of San Francisco. Andre was right to leave and take the kids. I was mad to think I could have raised them. I was a blood-drinking, night walking vampire, an innately evil thing, burned by the sun and anything holy. I saw ghosts and demons and could open portals to hell. Who knew what I’d draw to the kids?
I looked into the shadows of hell and the evil creatures it held and I knew what I had to do. There was one other choice I could make.
I ran through the night mists with sudden exhilaration. I enjoyed the harsh breaths panting through my laboring lungs, the pounding of my heart and the ache of my muscles—reveling in being alive. I ran to St. Anthony’s Cathedral, blazing with holy white light that lit up the night and kept the other night creatures at bay. But I picked up speed and sprinted up the steps. I pushed through the door and flew into the blazing white fire of God.
“Wake up, child.”
I looked into the eyes of an older man with white hair and rheumy blue eyes.
“Wake up. It’s morning,” he said.
I sat up. I was lying on a hard marble floor in front of an altar, the statue of Jesus looking down at me.
Morning sun blazed through stained glass windows and on my skin. I held up my hand and looked at the light reflected in it. It didn’t burn.
“Is there someone w
e can call to get you, young lady?”
“Do you have a mirror? Um, in the bathroom? I need to use the bathroom.” I was afraid to hope what I suspected could be true.
He led me to a room. There was a small mirror over the sink. I approached it slowly, scared at the enormity of my hope. I stared and started to laugh.
My reflection laughed back.
I washed my hands and used the bathroom. The priest was waiting outside the door.
“Yes, I have someone for you to call,” I said.
I stood in the blazing sun as Andre pulled up in front of the church looking worried. He ran up the cathedral steps. “Are you all right? The priest said he’d found you on the church floor, unconscious.”
I grinned. “I’m more than all right. Look Andre, I’m in the sun.”
“You’re not…?”
“I’m not. I thought I’d die and go to hell when I ran into the church, but He restored me back to what I was before.”
Andre folded me in his arms. “I never thought I’d be the type to say this, but Praise the Lord.”
I echoed his words, my heart shining, full of light and love.
A week later, Andre and I stood side-by-side in a church in Nevada. JJ and Jackson were beside us and Andre held Chai in his arms. We’d gone through the ritual that legally bound us.
We all left the church, skipping, laughing and whooping, our happiness at being the Moore family. Our love for each burst out and overflowed. I was secure in Andre’s love, and I knew we’d always be there for each other and all our children—the ones we had now, and the ones to come, because the Lord in His grace and mercy was the glue that would hold us together forever.
Monica Jackson is the national bestselling and award-winning author of ten novels and has participated in nine anthologies. Two of her novels were optioned for screenplay adaptation and one appeared on television. She contributed work toward the African American vampire anthology, Dark Thirst and is presently published in paranormal romance and erotica. Find out more at her website at http://monicajackson.com.
