Darklands: a vampire's tale

by Donna Burgess

  “Not that stupid.” Kasper materialized from the darkness. His gun was trained on Susan’s head. “What a pathetic show of emotions. I’m glad I was here to witness it.” His nose still trickled blood, and his chin and cheeks were smeared with it. His shoe, filled with blood from his punctured thigh, squelched wetly when he stepped forward.

  Still holding the gun on them, he pulled Susan’s cell from his coat pocket, thumbed up a number and sent it to speaker.

  It rang only a couple of times. “Susan?” Devin, sounding sleepy and somewhat anxious.

  “Susan’s with me, Devin,” Kasper said.

  There was a pause, a sigh, and then, “Kasper. What have you done?”

  “I win, Devin.”

  “Put Susan on the phone.” Devin’s voice rose slightly, but he quickly regained control of it. “I need to hear her.”

  Kasper thrust the phone toward Susan. “Say something, little bitch.”

  Susan swallowed hard, her throat clicking loudly in her ears. “I’m okay, Devin. I can handle this ass.”

  Michael squeezed her fingers tight enough to hurt.

  “Don’t do anything, Kasper. Don’t hurt her. Just tell me where you are, and I’ll come. You can have me. Just don’t hurt Susan.”

  “Have you? I’ve had you, Devin. At this point, making you miserable is more fun. I want to take away all you’ve had. Just like you did me.”

  He closed the phone, then dropped it to the floor and crushed it under the heel of his boot. “I hate these fucking things, anyway,” he muttered. Then, he focused his attention on Michael. “You. I warned you when you first came here how things would eventually go down. And now, here we are.”

  Kasper dabbed at his bloody nose with the sleeve of his coat. He stalked even closer, and Michael pulled Susan more tightly to him. Kasper towered over them as if they were small children. He appeared hellish in the cherry Kool-Aid lighting, with his busted nose, the blackening hollows beneath his eyes, the blood smears, and the lunatic grin. Susan watched every move he made, every rise and fall of his chest, waiting and hoping for an opening.

  Not completely unexpected, but too quickly for her to react, he brought the butt of the gun down against the right side of her skull, hard enough to snap her teeth together and make her ears ring. Susan dropped to her knees, black spots screwing up her vision for a moment. Consciousness threatened to slip away, and she couldn’t allow that. Through a haze, she saw Michael lunge at Kasper. Kasper drove him back as if he were swatting a fly.

  Blood, hot and sticky, wet the side of her face and neck. Kasper grabbed her long hair in one hand and yanked her head backward. He placed the icy gun barrel under her chin and pressed it hard into the soft flesh. Susan closed her eyes, and Kasper laughed.

  “Are you afraid, Susan?” he asked.

  Susan had several times found herself imagining her life ending in some painful, hideous way, but she forced herself to giggle. “Are you?”

  “I have nothing left to lose. Therefore, I have nothing to fear,” Kasper answered.

  “You will when Devin finds you.”

  “Devin has had his chance to finish me off. He’s a hell of a lot weaker than he’s led you to believe. Devin McCree’s no killer. He’s a coward.”

  He glanced at Michael again. “As for you. You get to watch this bitch die. Then, I’m going to take you, chain you up and drain you slowly.”

  Laughing, Kasper cocked the trigger of the gun.

  Michael sprang and forced himself between the gun and Susan, sending Susan reeling backward and crashing into a pile of disassembled child-sized mannequins. The gun went off, deafening, accompanied by a soft gasp, as if someone had had the wind knocked from them. Without thinking, Susan reached behind her and snatched up the first thing she could put her hands on, which turned out to be the short, thin leg of a child mannequin.

  Kasper stood looming over Michael’s writhing form. He casually put his hand into the pocket of his coat, fished out two more shells, and proceeded to reload the riot gun. But Susan was quicker this time, and she brought the plastic doll’s limb around and across the gun, ripping it from his hands. It clattered into the shadows, out of sight. Even with her vampire eyes, she couldn’t pinpoint where it had landed. She only hoped Kasper would have as much trouble finding it, buying her and Michael a little more time.

  The choice was there, try and go after the gun or get Michael and haul him out of there and away from Kasper as quickly as she could.

  She knelt, hooked her arm around Michael’s middle and dragged him to his feet. His knees buckled, and his head lolled back as if it was attached by a hinge. It was bad, and she didn’t have a lot of time.

  chapter fifty-three

  Susan pulled Michael back the way they had come, toward the loading area and through the mannequin-cluttered docking bay.

  “Damn it,” she muttered. “Sit tight a second.” She eased Michael to the floor and tugged at the roll-up door. It didn’t want to budge at first. She heaved upward once again and felt the muscles and ligaments in the small of her back tear. She went to one knee with a gasp and then gave it everything she had. The door rattled up a foot, then two feet, and then it screeched to a dead stop.

  “Fuck!” She scrambled to Michael and helped him over to the door. “Just lie still. I’ll go first and then pull you through.”

  “Just go, Susan,” Michael whispered.

  His coat and the shadows concealed most of his body, and she couldn’t determine exactly how bad things were, but she smelled his blood on the air, rich and heavy, from deep inside, and felt the thick wetness of it when she touched Michael.

  She slid under the gate and then reached in and pulled Michael through. When she helped him to his feet, he wobbled, but managed to stay somewhat upright. He bent at the waist, holding his middle.

  It was sleeting hard, and it wasn’t until the tears on her cheeks and eyelashes began to freeze did Susan realize she was crying. Behind them, Kasper's footsteps echoed in the warehouse. He was ranting at her, cursing.

  She pulled Michael’s limp body against her and began to run with him. The pavement was slick with ice, and he went down once, taking her with her.

  “Sorry. I’m sorry. Please leave me.” She didn’t risk a look inside his mind. She didn’t want to see what was there; she had seen enough with John, and that was as close to death as she ever wanted to get again.

  “You need to stop talking, Michael, and start walking,” she said.

  Michael rested his head against her shoulder. “Is that a song?”

  “Think of it as a mantra. Start walking, Michael, or I’ll have to carry you.”

  They left the semi-sheltered canyon of the alley behind the store and found themselves on the street. Michael left a wide trail of blood in the ice. Kasper would have no trouble following them, but she imagined he could trace them with scent alone, anyway. He was as wolf-like as any man she had seen.

  “You’re dragging me around like you think I’ll make it through this,” Michael said. “I’m a doctor. I know when someone is dying, especially when that someone is me.”

  “Shut up, please,” Susan said. Her feet slipped again, but she regained purchase before she lost her balance completely. “We just need to get out of the cold. I hate the fucking cold.”

  Her face and hands were numb. Behind, she heard Kasper scrambling under the docking gate.

  “Shit,” Susan hissed. “You’re going to have to pick it up, Michael. You hear me? I’m not leaving you, so are you going to let him kill me?”

  She knew that would get Michael’s feet moving, no matter how badly injured he was. She smiled and gave him a quick peck on his icy cheek. “That’s it.” Under the light of the streetlamps, she could see him better. His face was pasty, and his lips trembled in the cold. Blood seeped from his mouth, painting his chin red, a startling contrast to the bluish color his lips had become. It congealed quickly in the chill air.

  They rounded the corner and followed the
sidewalk. Susan scanned for anywhere that looked dark and cluttered enough for them to get lost for a little while. The few people that remained on the streets at this hour moved aside quickly and let them pass.

  “Let’s get to the trains. Okay? We’ll lose him if we can make it to the trains.”

  “Okay,” Michael agreed. Susan knew she could have suggested anything at that point, and Michael would have agreed.

  But his body was not cooperating with his mind, anymore. His knees buckled, and he fell again, pulling Susan down on top of him.

  “Sorry,” he wheezed.

  “Don’t worry.” There was a movie theater ahead, one of the grand old places before the multiplexes took over. The front entrance was boarded up and the marquee sported Bram Stoker’s Dracula, or at least a few letters of it, beneath a busted neon sign that let the world know this place was the Uptown Theatre. The lobby posters had been ripped away, and graffiti decorated the walls instead, crude statements of what the city had become.

  She tugged away a bottom corner of the plywood barrier, and luckily, the glass door behind it was shattered. Susan plopped on her bottom and kicked the rest of the glass out with her boots. Then, she slid out of the way and looked up at Michael.

  “Now. Just a little more, and then we can rest. Just a little further, Michael.”

  Michael’s response was a weak, wet cough, and he sort of wilted to his knees in front of the opening.

  “Go on, baby,” Susan said. She placed her hand on his back, stroking him. “For me.”

  Grunting, Michael wriggled through the opening. Susan followed him and then turned, removed her coat and rubbed hard at the blood he had left in his wake. It was still there, smeared, but hopefully not noticeable to anyone passing by. She readjusted the plywood cover and crawled over to where Michael lay on his belly, gasping.

  She pulled him to his feet, and they made their way through the thick darkness. There were no glowing red EXIT signs here to light the way, but Susan’s vampire vision could make out all she needed to see, and most things she would have preferred not seeing, like rats. She hated rats.

  Dried animal waste, ancient popcorn and dust hung in the air. Muted moonglow peeked between the boards and glowed like bars of sunlight in the lobby. The glass display of the concessions counter had been broken out. Candy wrappers littered the carpeted floors. The popcorn machine had been tossed over the counter and onto the floor. Petrified kernels made walking treacherous.

  Susan carried Michael, and he was as limp as a rag doll in her arms. She found a wide corridor. A velvet rope lay coiled like a sleeping snake on the floor. She glanced from side to side, looking for the door that led to the projection room.

  Finally, she came to a door that bore no disclaimer, and she took her chances. A narrow, winding stairwell led into another realm of darkness, and they were looking over the massive auditorium. Susan gently lowered Michael to the floor and risked a look over the balcony, half afraid she might spy yet another squatter taking shelter from the cold night.

  It was not as dark in there; the ornate ceiling was completely gone in spots and gray light spilled down onto a tattered and torn screen. Seat cushions bled stuffing. Rats scurried around, and she felt a shiver up her spine. Rats, but nothing or no one else. She knelt next to Michael and touched his face. He was so cold. His eyes opened slowly and tried to focus on her. She could not let this happen again. Not again tonight. Not again in her life. She could not lose someone she loved and try to pretend that she was all right to move on without them, without knowing they were somewhere alive on this earth.

  She pulled apart the flaps of his coat. The cloth was like a soaked blanket. Michael’s middle was nothing but a hole, large enough for Susan to thrust both her fists inside. In the darkness, it appeared a mile deep.

  “Don’t leave me, Susan,” Michael whispered. He sounded like he was underwater.

  She kissed his icy forehead. “Don’t you leave me,” she said.

  She pulled back her sleeve and exposed her wrist. “Now listen to me, Michael. I want you to do what I tell you, and we’re going to be okay.” She brought her arm to her mouth and bit down hard, drawing tears from her eyes. Her blood began to flow thickly.

  She held the pumping gash just above Michael’s slack lips. “Drink, Michael.”

  He opened his mouth slightly. A small flick of his tongue. Then, he turned his face away. “No, I can’t.”

  “You can, Michael.” Susan got to her knees and pressed her gushing wrist more urgently to his mouth. After a few breaths, she felt his soft lips working gently against her sensitive skin. Her heart quickened, and she leaned over him and stroked his hair back from his forehead with her free hand. “That’s it. Don’t stop. Don’t stop, Michael.”

  He wrapped both hands around her hand and wrist and sucked at the wound greedily. His chest vibrated against her as he growled deep in the back of his throat. She had never turned anyone and was unsure of when to make him stop. She felt dizzy with blood loss, and she couldn’t allow that; if she did, both of them might be screwed. After another impatient moment, she yanked her arm away from Michael, but he snatched it back. He was now surprisingly strong. She took her arm away again and replaced it with her lips. She gave him a long, lingering kiss, her tongue dipping inside his hot mouth, tasting her own blood. Then, she sat up.

  “That’s enough,” she whispered. She ripped the bottom of her blouse and tied it around her arm to staunch the bleeding.

  Michael lay perfectly still, and she wondered if she had waited too long. Maybe since she hadn’t known what she was doing, nothing would happen. However, when she pressed her fingers to his neck, she felt a strong pulse. She waited, listening to his breathing and for the sound of Kasper bursting into the theater.

  With her mind, she pressed against the door of Michael’s thoughts. There was a cloud of worry there, that same fear he had felt earlier, but not as intense. Not as hopeless. Then suddenly, it was as if the door was slammed closed. She jumped back, surprised, and then laughed softly to herself.

  She sat back against the wall and dozed.

  chapter fifty-four

  “Susan? What did you do?” Michael looked down at himself and probed his belly.

  Susan straightened up and rubbed her eyes. She had no idea how long she had slept. “I wasn’t going to just watch you die.”

  Michael stood up. He kicked at a stack of film tins and sent them scattering loudly. “Just what the hell am I supposed to do now? I can’t go home like this. You don’t want me.” He raked his hands hard through his hair. “Plus, Führer Kasper wants to kill me.”

  He turned away from her, his shoulders slumped and his head hanging. “I want to go home. All I wanted was for us to go back home. To have our lives back.”

  Susan jumped to her feet and shoved him hard, suddenly seething. More than anything, she wanted to punch him as hard as she could. “This is just fucking great! This is your life now, Michael. Like it or not. And you’d better like it. It’s better than being dead. No matter what you think, it is.”

  “Some life.” Michael clenched his jaw and shook his head. “What the hell am I supposed to do?” he asked again. “Reopen my practice and see my patients only at night? Rob a blood bank? Maybe they’ll give me an account—I am a doctor, after all.”

  Susan laughed. “Don’t be so weak,” she snarled. “You know what? Devin is the same. And so is Kasper. Maybe it’s a man thing. Embrace what you’ve become. You can’t stop it once it’s started, so embrace it.

  “Shut the hell up,” Michael told her.

  “Screw you, Michael. Go back to Hamilton. Survive on chickens and stray dogs.”

  Michael swiped at his eyes, and she realized he was crying.

  “Small towns are the worst,” she went on. “Strangeness is like a disease. Talk gets around, and the next thing you know, your house is burning down around you. There’s no anonymity in a small town. No ‘fitting’ in.”

  “But, I have nowhere
else to go, Susan.” He went to her and pulled her into his arms. He cried silently against her shoulder, and she relented. She slipped her arms around him and held him as tenderly as she could, remembering for a moment how it was to be human.

  “We need to get out of here,” Susan said. They backtracked the same way they had come in. The scent of Michael’s blood was still strong, at least to Susan, and now probably to Michael, as well. A human wouldn’t even have noticed it. The going was easier now, not only because Michael was healing, but because he could see in the dark. Susan reached for his hand, and he pulled away from her. She felt stung. He had never rejected her before. He had become sullen, quiet, and she now felt very alone, unable to reach him with words or slip into his mind.

  At the entrance, Susan knelt to crawl back through, and Michael stopped her. “I’m not crawling like some kind of frightened animal,” he muttered, then kicked the wooden barricade hard enough to send it flying away from the entrance in splintered pieces.

  Susan followed him back out into the night. It felt strange, him leading her, but suddenly he was someone else—no longer afraid, no longer her lapdog. She wondered if she had done the right thing in changing him, but the alternative was still far worse.

  “Where are you going, Michael?”

  “What does it matter, as long as I’m not out in the daylight?” He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his blood-drenched coat and began walking down the empty sidewalk. “Go back to Devin. Go now!”

  She stood watching him and wanted to cry again. Somewhere nearby, boot heels snapped against the pavement, deliberately loud, echoing and signaling an approach. At the end of the block, a figure stepped out of an alley.

  “Run, Susan,” Michael said.

  The figure stepped under the haze of the streetlamp and allowed the light to fall on him. He raised his gun.

  “No, Michael—“

  “Just go. Now,” he hissed. He walked quickly toward Kasper Jacobsen with his arms outstretched.