by Chism, Holly
“No, he’s not,” Richmond said, grudgingly. “But he is damned annoying.”
“And he likely didn’t choose Walmart because of the fire-control systems,” I continued. “Assuming he even knows how you manage to kill off the bad ones with the talents he has. It’s a lot more likely that he chose Walmart because nearly everybody goes to Walmart, and it’s easier to find his next victim that way.”
Richmond pulled a disgusted face. “Dumb luck is still luck,” he insisted. “It’s good to hear that his thought processes aren’t survival oriented.”
“He’s smart, but he’s also crazy,” I said. “Not crazy like a fox: completely bat-house nuts. I asked him why me when he stepped into my dreams to yell at me for being disobedient, and he said I reminded him of his wife. We all did.”
Richmond froze. “Really,” he breathed. “That may indeed be useful. Granted, it may not. We don’t have that much time left before he chooses another victim.”
“No, we don’t,” I said. “Maybe another week.”
“Probably less,” Richmond admitted. “We don’t know how he chooses his victims, or how far ahead of time he chooses them. We don’t know anything about his modus operandi.”
I grimaced. “I felt…watched. For two days. I found hints I was being followed for two days, starting from a trip to Walmart for groceries, supplies, and nylons for the stupid office Christmas party he attacked me at. Not before then.”
“We may have a touch more time, then,” he said, shrugging. “We shall still need to work fast if we are to prevent another death.”
I shrugged. I’d be happy to prevent another death like mine if I could—it was horrible, and I hated dreaming it from his perspective almost as much as I hated reliving the flashbacks that came the evening after—but I didn’t care to go out of my way and risk myself to prevent it. Not unless he targeted someone I cared about. And that wasn’t likely. I was really glad Andi didn’t fit his profile. I was even happier that he couldn’t really attack me again.
But I really didn’t want to risk my own safety. Nor Andi’s. And going up against him like Richmond was doing would do the first; Andi stepping in and doing more than what she and Ray were doing with information analysis would do the second.
Maybe I was enough of a sociopath to be a serial killer—as long as neither my friends nor I were hurt, and the nightmares stopped, I couldn’t care less what happened to ass-face.
What Dreams May Come
I was dreaming again. And ass-face was sitting in the same chair that he’d pulled around next to my couch. He frowned when I opened my eyes and looked at him. “Why are you here?”
“I live here, fucktard,” I snapped.
He rolled his eyes. “No, child. Why are you snuggled down on your couch?”
“Nunya.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked, exasperation coloring his tone.
“None of your fucking business. Any more than anything in my life is any of your fucking business,” I said.
His brow smoothed out, and he leaned back to study me. “You know that there’s someone hunting me.”
“Lots of people,” I agreed. “You have your very own case file with the FBI, since they investigate serial killers.”
“They have no chance of catching me,” he scoffed. “Not when I can disappear from their very perceptions.”
I shrugged. Very deliberately turned over, facing the back of the couch. “Get out of my dream and let me go back to sleep.”
“There’s a vampire in town,” he insisted.
“I know that, fuck face, you are in town. Now, shut the fuck up and go the fuck away,” I said.
“You are still the worst child,” he said, frustrated. “I don’t know why others bring children over. You do nothing that I want you to.”
“Fuck off,” I repeated.
“I am your sire! You are supposed to obey me!” he roared.
I looked over my shoulder and yawned. “You didn’t intend to make me. For all intents and purposes, I made myself when you attacked me. I feel no loyalty to you, and would prefer it if you’d just fuck off and die.”
He roared in wordless frustration, and struck me.
I woke up when my face bounced off the back of the couch hard enough to bounce me onto the floor with a thud, just as Richmond was leaving my bedroom. I gingerly felt the side of my face where he’d hit me. “That was unpleasant,” I said faintly. My jaw was mildly dislocated, and there was a lump on the back of my head.
“What happened?” Richmond asked, hurrying over to pick me up off the floor.
“Ass-face visited my dreams again,” I said, working my jaw. “He hit me when I wouldn’t cooperate with what he wanted.”
He frowned. “That shouldn’t have happened. The blood you drank should have prevented him from stepping into your dreams.”
I shrugged, feeling of the bone in my cheek and jaw. It wasn’t broken, but it was significantly bruised. And I was getting hungry off schedule. Weird. “I quit feeling the burning need to look at the things that Andi and Ray were putting together for you when I drank the vial,” I said. “That was getting seriously annoying.”
“At least I was able to do that much,” he grumbled. “However, he still should not have been able to step into your dream like he did. Perhaps his insanity allows him to step around the broken bond?”
I shrugged, flopping back down on the couch and staring at the ceiling. My jaw felt half-dislocated. I yawned, and the joint popped. After that, it felt better, so it may have been. “Does it matter how it happened?” I murmured.
Richmond sighed. “I suppose it doesn’t, unless it does. Child, it’s two hours until sunset, and you need more rest. Would you prefer the couch, or your bed?”
“I’d prefer to not go back to sleep,” I said. “I don’t want him in my head again.”
“Then you’re going to need to feed more than you usually do,” Richmond said grimly. “Both to heal that truly spectacular bruise you have coming up, and to make up for the rest you won’t be getting.”
I unwound myself from my covers, and staggered to my feet. “I wouldn’t be surprised if I don’t have a minor concussion, to go with,” I said, feeling dizzy as I stood. I waited until my head settled enough that I didn’t feel like I was falling sideways or up before heading unsteadily to my ‘fridge. I pulled out a full blood bag, and a double-size microwavable coffee mug, filling it with all of what I could squeeze out and putting it into the microwave. I set it for two minutes, then turned around to lean my hip against the counter.
“I’m going to try once more to take him, tonight,” Richmond said.
I shook my head. “You were one of the things he demanded information about,” I said. “He demanded information about the other vampire in town. I told him that the only vampire in town I knew of was him, but he knows you’re here. You may not be able to get close enough, tonight, to even spot the mirage you saw last night.”
“Not to mention that he’ll be actively working to enhance the effects of his line,” Richmond said grimly. “Rather than relying on the constant, passive effects.”
“Just watch your cameras tonight,” I suggested. “If he truly doesn’t leave Walmart, he may be hiding somewhere in there to sleep. Maybe in the employee area, maybe in the furnace room, or the attic. It may be a way to catch him, if you can hide there, too, and wake before he does.”
Richmond gave me an utterly shocked look. “Attack him in his daytime sanctuary?” he said. “That…isn’t done.”
“Neither’s burning a city to kill one vampire, but you’ve done that more than once.” I rolled my eyes. “You are not hunting anything civilized. I’m not sure he’s bathed in the last century, and judging by the state of his clothes when I saw him, he doesn’t change those, either, until they literally fall off of him. Maybe in another year or two. I’d call him an animal, but predators have a greater sense of self than he does.”
“He’s a mad dog,” Richmond ag
reed. “I’ll keep your suggestions under advisement.”
“Just…kill him. Kill him, or chase him far enough from my home that he can’t keep waltzing into my dreams and demanding things on strength of having turned me,” I said, pulling my mug from the microwave and sipping at it. “Especially when he screams in the next breath that he intended to kill me instead, and calls me a vicious hag for fighting back.” I wandered over to my couch and sat down, pulling my feet up to tuck them under my butt.
Richmond grimaced and handed me my laptop wordlessly, then took one of the chairs with my book. Thankfully, not the small chair that ass-face kept appearing in—that might have triggered some unpleasant psychological feedback. I shrugged and opened up my laptop, checking my email first. Looked like I’d have my new car before the conference I’d signed up for.
I surfed around, reading the headlines of the news articles that popped up on my screen when I signed out, clicking on one here and there, and skimming until I hit the business section. I read several articles there, killing time until sunset, hoping my grogginess would fade with the light of day.
I felt the sun set. It was a relaxation in tension at the juncture of my neck and shoulders that I hadn’t realized was there until it was gone, it was alertness stealing over me as the urge to sleep faded. I sighed and stretched. Richmond looked up from his book. “Would you mind if I borrowed your laptop?” he asked. “I’m afraid my last one was victim to a bit of a diva in Kansas City, who followed me to Lawrence, then Topeka.”
I shrugged and logged out of the site I’d been using to research markets and companies. “I don’t have a problem with that,” I said, handing it over and standing to stretch. “I’m going to shower and go up to get to work.”
“I’ll stay out of your way,” he said absently. I passed behind him on my way into my bedroom to gather clothing for the night. He was logged into and watching the footage from one of the cameras at Walmart on fast forward.
I shrugged and got my things (underwear and heavy, terrycloth bathrobe—I’d go back to my room to dress for the night) together for a shower. As I passed behind him again on the way into the bathroom, he asked, “Is this the earliest he’s bothered your dreams?”
I paused and thought for a minute. “I think so, yeah. I mean, there’s been a couple minutes’ difference, but no more than that. When I see an attack, it’s a few minutes before I wake up, right at recorded sunset. About half an hour before, when the attack starts. I usually wake twenty minutes early, after the attack starts, but before it…ends.”
He cringed. “You witness the attacks?”
I shook my head slowly, trying to not flash into the attack, into him. I failed, and felt the sensory flashback of filthy skin and greasy hair, and my skin and scalp started crawling with the disgusting sensations. “Worse. I’m him in the attacks. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really need a shower. I feel nasty.”
“I’d wager,” he murmured, shuddering.
I hurried into the bathroom, and set the water on hot to heat the tiles in the shower, and start steaming up the room a bit. My head and jaw were still sore, even though there was no visible bruising when I inspected closely in the mirror. The heat from the shower helped immensely. I felt human (as much as ever) when I got out, instead of like a roundsteak pounded by a meat hammer. I wrapped up in my heavy robe and went back to my room. Richmond, absorbed in what he was doing, waved absently in acknowledgement as I went back to my room.
I decided on sharp, business casual—I needed confidence, tonight, not comfort. Nicer than the other night. I pulled out insulated, silky, nylon leggings with a lace cuff and a pair of jet black, wool slacks. A royal blue button-down blouse, and a gray, wool, v-neck pullover sweater. Things that looked nice, and helped me feel more confident in myself. The wool would satisfy my need for comfort, too, by helping me retain the warmth that the shower had instilled all the way to my bones. But I really needed the confidence to be able to focus on some of the plans I’d put together while reading some of the business articles.
I’d decided this evening, when I was reading between the time I was so rudely and painfully awakened and the time the sun set, that I needed to put together a weekly newsletter for my clients. That would be the first order of business for the evening, I decided. I trotted up the stairs, and nearly ran over Andi coming in with an armload of grocery bags—from the grocery store, not from Walmart, I was thankful to see. Ray was out on the porch, watching in through the front storm door, and giggling like a loon.
“What’s with him?” I asked, taking some of Andi’s bags.
She sighed heavily, and said, “He likes slapstick comedy. Which we almost were. I’d have made him clean it up, though.” She gestured with one of the bags hooked over her elbow. “This bag has eggs.”
I rolled my eyes, and helped Andi get the bags into the kitchen. Ray staggered into the kitchen a few moments after I heard the storm door slam, still sniggering. The ass.
And I edged past him, heading for the quiet sanity of my library. I started my coffeemaker and my desktop, sitting in my comfy work chair while I waited for both to cycle through their processes. I snagged a pen and a notebook and laid out what I wanted to do with my newsletters. I set up a rough outline, then went online to research which program would be best.
I eventually went with Publisher.
I heard two sets of footsteps go up to the office that Andi had set up, then wander around above my head. I heard a set of footsteps come back down and then Andi poked her head into my library. “Hey, Meg? Is your acquaintance still around?”
I nodded absently, focused on the newsletter template I was playing in. “Pretty sure yes. Unless my car’s gone, he’s here,” I said.
“Where is he?”
“Downstairs working on my laptop,” I said. “Doing something probably illegal, so maybe best to not let Ray know about it.”
“Well, we’ve got some things put together that we think he needs to see,” she said.
I flapped a hand. “Just go call him up from the basement. He isn’t going to bite you. He’s got dried blood he adds to liquids to snack on,” I suggested.
“Sure,” Andi said. “I’ll just go do that.”
I heard her knock on the door to the basement, and heard the door open. I turned my attention forcibly back to my work, attempting to avoid even having the knowledge that ass-face wanted. Avoiding even making any random connections. I didn’t want to even accidentally give anything away, since he was still fucking with my dreams.
*
I woke again in a dream. Ass-face was back in the chair. His head was in his hands. “I’m sorry I hit you,” he said mechanically. No emotion at all, least of all sincerity.
“Go away.”
“I really need to know what’s going on,” he said, looking up at me. His eyes were a weird shade of muddy, pond-scum brown-green.
“Go away.”
“Listen, will you just tell me what your friend is working on?”
“Go away.”
“You’re not helping.”
I snorted. “No shit, Sherlock. Go away.”
“Why won’t you do what you’re supposed to do?” he bellowed, flinging himself from my chair and pacing.
I was so burning that fucking chair in the spring. I wanted nothing connected to this man.
“Why do you stalk and kill women that remind you of your wife?” I asked.
I meant it as a rhetorical question, but he answered it. “She made me like this, then she left,” he said.
I rolled my eyes. “Boo-fucking-hoo, bitch. That was a rhetorical question. Go away.”
“You’re my child,” he said, confused. He knelt next to the couch, staring intently into my face. “Why won’t you do as I say?”
I sat up. “Did you know that you break every one of the laws set for vampires?”
He shrugged. “Laws don’t apply to me.”
“Then why should I obey you?” I asked reasonably. “It’s not li
ke I asked to be turned into this. Nor yet did I ask to be attacked, raped, and murdered.”
He frowned, blinking fast. Confused. “I don’t understand.”
“I will not do what you want, tell you what you want, because I hate you,” I explained slowly. “Now. Get out of my dream, and go fuck yourself sideways with a cactus.”
His eyes widened, and he burst into giggles. And the room faded at the edges and black slowly crept in. I wondered, as I sank back into real sleep, if that had shocked him, or amused him with creativity he wasn’t accustomed to.
I woke again, for real this time, at sunset. I felt rested.
I was also in my own bed again.
I sighed, rolling out of bed, and dug out clothes for the day, mulling over the almost civil conversation. Something about it…bothered me.
I stepped out of my bedroom, and froze.
There was another vampire in my apartment.
“Uh…” I said as both men looked up at me. The urge to run, flee, escape washed over me…then was gone.
The stranger glanced over at Richmond. “You are an utter ass,” he said dryly. “You didn’t tell her I was coming.”
“Well, I wasn’t aware you were coming until I checked my email when I woke,” he said. “And I wake far earlier than she does.”
I held up a hand. “I don’t want to hear anything about the messiness in my home town,” I said. “Ass-face is still harassing me in my dreams.”
“Still?” Richmond said, shocked. “I’d hoped, when you were still sleeping when I woke, that you hadn’t had troubles with him last night.”
“Trouble, no,” I said slowly, frowning. “He was almost civil, wondering why I wouldn’t cooperate. I shot back a rhetorical question of why did he kill me. He’d said I reminded him of his wife in an earlier conversation, but last night he said that he hated her because she turned him then left him.”
Richmond and the stranger looked at each other, resignation clear in their features. “Damn,” the stranger said mildly.
