Or something like that.
I hurt. I really emotionally and physically hurt from what I knew had only been a dream. It took a couple of hours before I could get myself together enough to head off to the Alhambra in hopes of staving off the painful loneliness.
There wasn’t a huge crowd at the club, but the place was jumping when I showed up. Everybody was gathered around the bar, abuzz with conversation.
I spotted Tiana and went up to her. “What happened.”
“Anton went up in flames this morning,” she answered.
“Why’d he do a thing like that without having a goodbye party first?” I asked. Anton was the bartender. He lived on the second floor. Used to.
“He didn’t want to make a fuss.”
“How’d it happen?”
“Usual way. He walked outside to see the dawn.”
It happens. Every few decades the urge to end eternity gets hold of a vampire. I hadn’t succumbed to the depression yet, but the way I was feeling tonight I sympathized with Anton’s choice. I wasn’t sure my usual panacea of buying lots of shoes was going to be enough.
“Did anybody sweep up his ashes?”
“Oh, yes,” Tiana answered. “He’s already in a nice urn over the bar with a sticky note reminder attached to sprinkle some blood on him in a year or two. The problem is what are we going to do for a bartender now?”
Blood brings us back and we usually are ready to carry on after an ash vacation. I wasn’t in the mood to join in the “what are we going to do to replace Anton” discussion occupying everyone else’s attention, but I did manage to elbow my way to a seat at the bar. I found myself looking up at the television overhead.
The local news was still dwelling on last night’s multi-car crash. Slow news night, I supposed. “Isn’t there a gang war or a car chase you could cover?” I complained to the television. “I’m bored.”
“You don’t feel bored,” Tiana said, coming up beside me. “You’re unhappy. I don’t mean to snack on your emotions,” she added when I glared at her. “You know I can’t help it. Why are you unhappy? Anton?”
I snorted. “May he rest in peace, but I don’t give a damn about Anton.” I turned my glare back on the TV screen. “What’s so important about last night’s car crash?”
“Four people died on scene,” she said, “Everybody else is hospitalized, most of them in critical condition. But the real reason the networks are still covering it is—”
Her timing was perfect, because at that moment his picture appeared on the screen.
“Oh, good God!” My heart felt like a knife had been plunged into it.
Tiana’s hand touched my shoulder. “I know you’re a fan, but—”
“He’s not dead! Tell me he isn’t dead?”
I only realized I was shaking her when she shouted, “Stop it! Let go of me!”
I did. I pointed at the television. “That’s the man in my dream.”
“The man of your dreams? He’s an actor you’ve got a crush on.”
“I do not get crushes. And I mean he’s the man that was in my dream last day. We were dancing.”
“Vampires don’t dream. And he was in intensive care while you were sleeping.”
The relief might have killed me if that was possible. As it was, it felt like I was having a heart attack. “Intensive care? So he isn’t dead?”
“Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time.” She glanced at the face of the reporter now on the screen. “His deathwatch is what all the media fuss is about. They’re worse ghouls than I am.”
I automatically patted her shoulder, knowing that this admission hurt her pride, but my mind was racing on another matter. It hadn’t been a dream. Somehow, it hadn’t been a dream. He’d been there and I’d been there, only, where the hell was there?
“How did it happen?”
“He and some friends were going out for ice cream when they ended up in the pile up and the car went off the side of the mountain. He was the only survivor, but he’s on life support and he’s been declared brain dead.”
“His brain isn’t dead,” I said. “It’s been out dancing.”
I was sure this was true. We’d been in telepathic contact. But how?
I heard the voice that speared into my brain back at the crash site in my head again—Help me! Where are you?
“Of course! He’s psychic. He called out for help when we were up at the crash—and I answered him! That’s how we met!”
I grabbed Tiana’s cold, gray hand. “Come on, ghoulfriend!”
“Where are we going?” she asked as I pulled her toward the door.
I laughed, all my depression blown away by exaltation. “To the rescue, of course!”
“We’re here. Now what?” Tiana asked as we moved across the ER waiting room.
“Go up to the ICU,” I answered. “And take him home.”
“He’s on life support. There’s probably cops and private security in the halls.”
“I’ll take care of them. All you have to do is create a diversion.”
She licked her lips and nodded. Her skin was flushed to an almost normal human color. This was one of her feeding grounds and she’d showed me where to sneak in. It had been easy, even with the circus in the streets.
Outside the media and fan frenzy was as thick and chaotic as I’d ever seen it in all my decades of dwelling in this town. There were news vans sprouting satellite and lighting equipment and chuffing power generators. Reporters looked solemnly into cameras as they spoke. Paparazzi were thick as roaches in a tenement. Helicopters circled. Cops held a crowd back beyond a cordon surrounding the hospital. People held signs and candles and flowers. Some were singing the theme song from one of his movies.
I wondered if what I was doing was any less ridiculous than the behavior of his grieving fans.
In the ER people were bleeding and screaming and crying through their own problems. It was quiet and peaceful compared to what was going on outside. No one paid any attention as we made our way through a wide doorway, down a hallway and to a door past a row of elevators. You learn to take the stairs when you want to live an under the radar life.
“There are three people ready to die here,” Tiana said after we reached the critical care floor and slipped into an empty room. She looked sad.
Hey, she’s a ghoul, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t a kind person.
“Can you work with that?” I asked. Hey, I’m a vampire, remember?
She nodded. She prefers living off residual death energy instead of any direct involvement. “I hate doing the soul sucking thing, but, yeah, there’s nothing that can be done for any of them.”
“Is my guy one of the three?” I asked worriedly.
She looked thoughtful, shook her head. “Low energy, but stable. Now let me get to work.”
I backed out of the room as she opened her mouth for one of those screams that only the dying could hear. The dying would give up their energy to the ghoul when they heard that sound. Pretty soon there was almost as much activity on this floor of the hospital at there was outside. Alarms went off at the nursing station, crash carts were hurried into rooms. There was running and shouting and I moved unnoticed to the room with the guard outside the door.
The guard wasn’t a problem. I made him look into my eyes and he was instantly stunned. “Is there a security camera in there?” I asked.
“No. There’s a nurse,” he volunteered.
“Tell the nurse to respond to the code blues. Follow the nurse and volunteer to help.” I hoped that was enough of an excuse to keep the guard from getting into too much trouble when I kidnapped his charge. I rushed into his room once he was alone.
Inside the door I stopped with my mouth hanging open. The man on the bed was hooked up to so many tubes and gadgets I didn’t know how to start freeing him. I didn’t have much time, so I whispered an apology for any pain I caused him and started ripping and pulling the life support equipment off him. Trails of his blood staine
d my clothes when I picked him up. The scent and warmth of it was intoxicating, but I fought off the sudden blood lust. My fangs ached like a virgin’s on her first hunt as I carried him away with me.
His weight was no problem, but I’m a small woman and he’s a very tall man. Carrying him was awkward, but you manage what you have to.
I took him downstairs, through the closed cafeteria and to a courtyard garden beyond it where I set him down gently beneath a squat palm tree. I sat beside him and settled his head in my lap. My fingers touched his temples.
Are you there? I thought.
You came for me! His voice called from so far away I barely sensed it.
Do you want to live? I asked. You know I’m a vampire. I will try to change you if you want me to. Think carefully before you choose.
In the long silence that followed I had to fight very hard to keep my fangs from sinking into his flesh. I’d never been so aroused by the scent of blood before, but I wasn’t going to taste a drop without his permission. He had to make the choice.
I thought I’d have to be Wallachian, his thought came at last.
You’re part Hungarian. There’s a chance you’ll change.
It depends on if my grandmas got raped by the right sort of invaders?
Pretty much.
I’ll die otherwise, won’t I?
Yes. But that shouldn’t be why you choose to become a blood drinker, a nightwalker, an exile from every part of the daylight world.
It really isn’t all that bad being a vampire, but there are difficulties and the lifestyle should not be glamorized for potential newbies. No matter how much you want to share a coffin with them.
Can I stay with you if I change?
My heart sang at his question. And, oh, how my fangs ached!
Yes, I told him. For as long as you want. Forever if you want.
Forever sounds good to me. Do it.
Remember that it might not take. That—
Shut up and bite me.
I couldn’t argue with that. So I did.
And I’d never had a rush like it in all my years of sucking the good stuff! I couldn’t count the orgasms that shook me before every drop of him was flowing inside me.
I didn’t have to share my blood with him. Some sort of enzyme in my saliva was transferred to him from the bite and the enzyme would trigger the change if it was going to happen. But, just in case, I bit my wrist and poured a few drops of my blood into his mouth. Not that he was capable of swallowing. At this point he was essentially dead. He’d either get better or I’d have to dispose of his body in a way that the marks on his throat would never be seen.
I didn’t want to think about disposal. I didn’t want to think of him ever being dead. I held his limp body and felt it grow heavier and colder and worried and cried those disgusting blood-drenched vampire tears. I don’t know for how long. Long enough for my mood to turn bleak and heartbroken.
Long enough for me to be aware that the sun would be up in an hour or so.
There’s an almost physical pressure on the skin the closer daylight comes. Normally I’d be starting to think about getting to cover. Instead, I vowed I’d stay here and let the sun take me if he didn’t come around before the end of the night. I didn’t care if my ashes blew away so far there wouldn’t be anything left of me. Perhaps the fire that took me would burn him as well, and our ashes would blend together.
Sentimental, aren’t you?
I heard the thought but it took a long time before I came out of my grief enough to realize that the voice wasn’t my imagination.
“You’re alive!”
Don’t shout. I have a hangover. That’s not right. My throat hurts. I’m thirsty. My mouth tastes like sweet copper.
“That’s my blood. You’re alive,” I repeated, the words whispered in his ear as I helped him sit up. “You’re a vampire.”
“I guess the right Cossacks raped my grandmas.”
His voice was a rough croak, but the most delicious sound I’d ever heard. He struggled to his feet, and insisted on giving me his hand to help me up. Living or dead, he was always a gentleman. When I was on my feet his arms came around me. He was weak enough that I ended up holding him up as we embraced.
“We could dance like this forever,” he said.
I sighed romantically. “We could.” I looked around. “We could if the sun wasn’t coming up soon. We need to get out of here.”
He cupped my cheek and looked at me with his new night vision. “You’re as beautiful as I dreamed you were, my Stella. Thank you—for saving me, thank you for being with me now and forever.”
There’s no way a girl can’t respond to that. I kissed him, and he kissed back and it was real and deep and better than any dream.
After a while he lifted his head and gave a dry, hacking cough. “S-sorry. Thirsty.”
I put my arm around his waist and helped him toward the garden door. “I know just the place where we can get a beer. Now that you’ve changed you can find it on your own.”
“I’d rather go with you.”
You have no idea how much this meant to me.
Tiana met us outside the cafeteria and guided us along her secret route out of the hospital and away from the crowd. He noticed all the fuss as we drove away, he and I squeezed into the trunk of Tiana’s car.
“You have no idea how happy I am to leave the celebrity era of my life behind,” he told me.
“You’ll miss acting.”
“I’ll think of a way to get back to it. Do vampires work? Do I need a job?”
“I’m a real estate mogul. You can live off me. Wait—” I’d remembered Anton. “The place we’re heading, the Alhambra Club, needs a bartender. I know the owner.” That would be me. “If you’re interested.”
We were squeezed in pretty tightly, but he managed to pull me closer. “Does this place have a dance floor?”
I laughed, happier than I’d ever imagine I could be. “It will when we’re done with it if that’s what you want,” I promised.
“I think dancing—being—with you is all I ever wanted.”
“Me too.” I couldn’t stop the girlish giggle from escaping. “I guess this is a real—”
“Hollywood ending,” he finished, not having to be psychic to know what I was thinking.
A TRICK OF THE DARK
Tina Rath
This haunting tale takes us back to the period between two World Wars when chrome was shockingly modern, a young man might be thought to be an anarchist if he went about with long curly hair and wore no hat, and the best a young woman in poor health could hope for was to stay home in bed and await her demise . . . or perhaps not.
Tina Rath gained her doctorate from London University with a thesis on The Vampire in Popular Fiction and her MA with a dissertation on The Vampire in the Theatre. She has made radio and television appearances and lectured on vampires and other aspects of Gothic literature for various groups and societies. Her fiction has been published in periodicals such as All Hallows, Ghosts and Scholars, The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, Supernatural Tales 16, Visionary Tongue, and Weird Tales. Anthology appearances include Strange Tales, Exotic Gothic 3, and The Mammoth Book of Vampires. She edited the anthology Conventional Vampires for the Dracula Society in 2003.
“What job finishes just at sunset?”
Margaret jumped slightly. “What a weird question, darling. Park keeper, I suppose.” Something made her turn to look at her daughter. She was propped up against her pillows, looking, Margaret thought guiltily, about ten years old. She must keep remembering, she told herself fiercely, that Maddie was nineteen. This silly heart-thing, as she called it, was keeping her in bed for much longer than they ever thought it would, but it couldn’t stop her growing up . . . she must listen to her, and talk to her like a grown-up.
Intending to do just that she went to sit on the edge of the bed. It was covered with a glossy pink eiderdown, embroidered with fat pink and mauve peonies. The lamp on Maddie�
��s bed-side table had a rosy shade, Maddie was wearing a pink bed jacket, lovingly crocheted by her grandmother, and Maddie’s pale blond hair was tied back with a pink ribbon . . . but in the midst of this plethora of pink Maddie’s face looked pale and peaky. The words of a story she had read to Maddie once—how many years ago?—came back to her: “Peak and pine, peak and pine.” It was about a changeling child who never thrived, but lay in the cradle, crying and fretting, peaking and pining . . . in the end the creature had gone back to its own people, and, she supposed that the healthy child had somehow got back to his mother, but she couldn’t remember. Margaret shivered, wondering why people thought such horrid stories were suitable for children.
“What made you wonder who finishes work at sunset?” she asked.
“Oh—nothing,” Maddie looked oddly shy, as she might have done if her mother had asked her about a boy who had partnered her at tennis, or asked her to a dance. If such a thing could ever have happened. She played with the pink ribbons at her neck and a little, a very little colour crept into that pale face. “It’s just—well—I can’t read all day, or—” She hesitated and Margaret mentally filled in the gap. She had her embroidery, her knitting, those huge complicated jigsaws that her friends were so good about finding for her, a notebook for jotting down those funny little verses that someone was going to ask someone’s uncle about publishing . . . but all that couldn’t keep her occupied all day.
“Sometimes I just look out of the window,” she said.
“Oh, darling . . . ” She couldn’t bear to think of her daughter just lying there—just looking out of the window. “Why don’t you call me when you get bored? We could have some lovely talks. Or I could telephone Bunty or Cissie or—” it’s getting quite autumnal after all, she thought, and Maddie’s friends won’t be out so much, playing tennis, or swimming or . . . You couldn’t expect them to sit for hours in a sick-room. They dashed in, tanned and breathless from their games and bicycle rides, or windblown and glowing from a winter walk, and dropped off a jigsaw or a new novel . . . and went away.
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