Look for Me by Moonlight

by Mary Downing Hahn

  “Don’t,” I whispered, “please, Vincent, please don’t. He’s just a little boy.”

  Vincent laid Todd down and covered him with his blue blanket. “Don’t worry, Cynda, I didn’t take much. You’ll have your chance later.”

  I wanted to go to Todd, but Vincent turned out the light and ushered me into the hall. “What’s done is done, Cynda. There’s nothing you can do for Todd now. Or yourself.”

  Soundlessly he descended the stairs behind me, calling out to Dad that Todd was asleep, he’d settled right down without a murmur of protest.

  “A sweet boy,” he whispered in my ear, “quite delicious.”

  18

  Dad was surprised to see me come downstairs with Vincent. “I thought you’d gone to your room, Cynda.”

  I ran to his side, but Vincent’s eyes silenced me. “I just wanted to say good night to Todd,” I mumbled.

  From the way Susan looked at me, I knew she thought I’d followed Vincent upstairs to be alone with him. She seemed pleased that he’d thwarted me by coming down so promptly. Obviously he hadn’t encouraged me. That must mean she had nothing to worry about after all. I was safe with Vincent, we all were.

  “Why don’t you go to bed, Cynda,” she suggested. “The inn’s drafty, I don’t want you to get chilled.”

  I turned to Dad. “Let me stay with you for a while. I feel better, honestly I do.”

  At that moment the doorbell rang. The sound startled us all. “Who could that be?” Susan asked.

  Dad opened the door. Will stood on the threshold. The wind entered with him, shrieking as it fled past us.

  “I was on my way home,” he said. “I thought I’d drop in to see how Cynda is.”

  I glanced at Vincent. He was staring thoughtfully at Will, his face guarded, his body tense, as wary as a cat when a dog enters a room. When he caught me watching him, he smiled and stretched out his hand to Will. “Nice to see you again,” he said cordially. “How’s the painting coming?”

  Will avoided shaking Vincent’s hand by turning away to hang up his jacket. “Fine,” he mumbled.

  The five of us went into the living room. I sat on the couch near the fire, and Will dropped down beside me, so close his shoulder touched mine. I heard the blood run in his veins, I heard his heart pump. He was warmer than the fire, better. I slid nearer, fascinated by his jugular. I longed to lass it, bite it, taste the sweet, red liquid pulsing through it.

  Across the room, Vincent cleared his throat. My eyes met his and he winked. He knew why I’d moved closer to Will, he knew what I wanted. Poor Will had no idea.

  Horrified by my own desires, I moved to the other end of the couch. I didn’t trust myself. I was sick, infected, diseased. No one was safe from me.

  Will seemed disappointed by the distance I’d put between us, but he didn’t say anything. Except for Vincent, no one else noticed. Susan’s head was bent over her sewing, and Dad was engrossed in telling Will about a problem he was having with the inn’s antiquated plumbing. How could he and Susan sit in the presence of evil and suspect nothing?

  Suddenly Vincent leaned toward Will. “I’d like to see your paintings. I have some contacts in the city. Perhaps I could help you sell some of your work.”

  He rose and walked across the room to Will. “Here’s my card. Give me a call when I return to New York. Or come see me. You’ll always be welcome. The art world is in need of new blood.”

  Vincent glanced at me, relishing his joke.

  Will took the card and studied it. Without looking at Vincent, he thanked him and slipped the card into his shirt pocket.

  “Isn’t that lovely, Will?” Susan smiled approvingly. “Think what it would mean to have your work on display in a posh New York gallery.”

  Dad agreed. “What a great thing to do, Vince. Will needs encouragement. He’s too shy to go out and promote himself.”

  I watched Will carefully, waiting to see if Vincent’s flattery might work this time. Perhaps Will, too, would fall under our guest’s dark spell. I’d have no one then. No one but Vincent.

  Will examined a loose thread in his sweater but said nothing. Susan must have noticed he was uncomfortable. “Why don’t you kids go out to the kitchen and make popcorn for us? I’d do it myself, but I’m feeling lazy tonight.”

  In the kitchen, I avoided getting close to Will. He was so innocent, so trusting. He had no fear of me, didn’t dream he was in danger.

  I picked up a pot, but my hands shook so badly I dropped it. Will bent to retrieve it, exposing the tender nape of his neck. My teeth chattered like Ebony’s when he saw a bird at the feeder. I backed away.

  Will stared at me. “What’s wrong, Cynda?”

  “Don’t come any closer,” I whispered. “Stay away from me.”

  He frowned. “What do you think I’m going to do?”

  “Just go home, Will,” I begged. “Don’t come here anymore. Don’t call Vincent, either—tear up his card, burn it.”

  When I started crying, Will reached out for me. “Cynda,” he whispered, “Cynda, what’s wrong?”

  I trembled in his arms. His neck was so close, my lips were touching his jugular vein, the blood was right there, singing to me. One quick bite and it was mine. Overcome with horror, I tried to push him away.

  “You don’t know what I’m becoming,” I sobbed. “I’m evil, wicked. Believe me, Will, I’m not fit to be near you or anyone else.”

  Will stared at me. “It’s Vincent, isn’t it? He’s done something to you.”

  My silence confirmed his suspicions. “That bastard. I knew he’d hurt you. I warned you, Cynda, I told you he was no good.”

  I still said nothing. If Will knew what I’d let Vincent do, he’d despise me as much as I despised myself.

  Will drew in his breath. “You’re afraid of him. Has he threatened you in some way?”

  Unable to bear his concern, I covered my face and wept. Immediately he drew me close again and held me tight, hoping to comfort me. “You’re shaking with fear,” he murmured. “My God, Cynda, what has he done to you?”

  “This,” I sobbed, “this.” I pressed my teeth against Will’s neck, then jerked my head away without breaking the skin, without tasting the blood.

  Will’s hand flew to his neck, covering the toothmarks I’d left. His eyes filled with shock.

  I pulled the newspaper article out of my pocket and thrust it at him. “Hide this, read it later. Don’t let Vincent see it.”

  Watching me warily, Will buttoned the folded papers into his shirt pocket. Behind him, Vincent appeared in the doorway. Will must have sensed his nearness. He turned to face him, keeping his body between Vincent and me.

  “Susan sent me to inquire about the popcorn.” Vincent looked at the pot on the table and the unopened package beside it. “It appears you haven’t even begun.”

  Will shrugged and put his arm around me. “Cynda and I were enjoying a little time together.”

  Vincent’s reaction took us both by surprise. Without warning, he sprang on Will and wrestled him to the floor. The noise brought Dad and Susan to the door.

  “Help me,” Vincent yelled at Dad. “He was trying to rape your daughter!”

  “No, no,” I whispered. “Don’t believe him, Dad, he’s lying.” My father paid no attention. I couldn’t speak loud enough to make him hear me.

  “Let me go!” Will broke free from Vincent only to be grabbed by Dad. “He’s lying, Mr. Bennett. Guard Cynda against him, not me!”

  Dad stared at Will, unsure what to believe.

  “Your daughter was trying to defend herself,” Vincent said. “Look at his neck. See the toothmarks? He’s obviously not the sort of boy who takes no for an answer.”

  “Mr. Bennett, Mrs. Bennett.” Will turned desperately from Dad to Susan, pleading to be believed. “You know me, surely you don’t think I’d hurt Cynda.”

  “Why would Vincent lie?” Dad asked Will. His voice shook with hurt. Someone he’d trusted had betrayed him. Was it Will o
r Vincent?

  Susan put her arm around my shoulders. “What happened, Cynda? Tell me.”

  “Yes,” Will cried. “For God’s sake, Cynda, tell her. Say something!”

  But Vincent was staring at me, mocking me, silencing me with his eyes. “Please,” he murmured, “don’t pressure Cynda. She’s ill, weak, she may faint.”

  As he spoke, the kitchen spun, faces whirled, voices ran together, and everything went black.

  When I opened my eyes, I was in bed. Susan and Dad bent over me. “Will,” I whispered, “Will . . .”

  “Don’t worry,” Dad said wearily. “He’s gone. I told him he was no longer welcome here.” He covered my hand with his. “I trusted Will, I never dreamed he’d behave like this.”

  “Drugs,” Susan murmured. “He must have taken something. It’s the only explanation.”

  I shook my head, unable to say more. Vincent stood behind Dad and Susan, watching me intently, his lips curved in a mocking smile.

  Dad smoothed the quilt over me. “Rest now,” he said. “You’ve had a terrible shock. We all have.”

  I wanted to beg Dad to stay, but I remembered what had happened the last time. I’d only irritated him. Now I was too weak to make the effort, wasn’t even sure I could speak—not with Vincent staring at me.

  Dad gave me a hug and left the room with Susan. Vincent lingered long enough to blow me a swift lass. Then the door closed and I lay alone in the dark, dreading his return.

  19

  Hours later, Vincent’s knock woke me. “Cynda,” he whispered. “Cynda, open the door.”

  Todd giggled. “Little Pig, Little Pig,” he called softly. “Let us come in.”

  Totally defeated, I went to the door. Todd smiled down at me from his perch on Vincent’s shoulders, his eyes dark with mischief. A tiny red mark like mine was barely visible just above his pajama collar. From the look on my brother’s face, it seemed Vincent had bent him completely to his will.

  “Oh, Toddy,” I whispered, stricken by the change in him. “Why aren’t you in bed? Dad and Susan would be so mad if they knew you were here.”

  “You’d better not tell,” Todd said fiercely. “Vincent says I can stay up late and do whatever I please. I don’t have to do what Daddy says anymore. Or Mommy either. Only sillies sleep at night.”

  Vincent lowered Todd to the floor. “Your half brother is amazingly cooperative,” he said. “A quick learner, a pleasure to teach. You could benefit from his example, Cynda dear.”

  Todd ran to my window and began to play with the rocks and shells I’d arranged on the sill. I watched him move them about, giving them names and personalities. Absorbed in his game, he seemed totally unaware of what was happening to us.

  I grabbed Vincent’s arm. “What have you done to him? He used to hate you. He wouldn’t come near you and now look at him!”

  Vincent pulled away and smoothed his sweater sleeve. “Sometimes those who hate me on sight are the ones most attracted to me. They make the best pupils.”

  For a moment, he watched Todd. A smile twitched the corners of his mouth, but it lacked the strength to reach his cold, dark eyes.

  Todd must have sensed Vincent’s gaze because he turned to show him a large stone, one of my favorites, a perfect pale-green egg shape. “Watch this,” he shouted. “It’s a bomb.” He dropped the rock on a pile of small shells, including the tiny scallop Will had given me. “Boom, boom, everyone’s dead!”

  Todd laughed happily when Vincent smiled at him. It was obvious my brother hungered for his new friend’s approval.

  Vincent turned back to me. “It’s so simple, Cynda. All I had to do was play upon his fears and petty little jealousies. Now he thinks I’m the only one who understands him, the only one who loves him. Without me, he’d be all alone.”

  It was just what he’d done to me. My face flushed with shame, and Vincent laughed. “My approach works every time, doesn’t it? You’re so pitifully predictable, so easy to win over.”

  Still chuckling, he flung himself down on my bed. “Come here, Cynda. Tell me about your wicked stepmother and your cold, unloving papa. Let me kiss your tears away, my poor, sweet darling.”

  When I refused, he reached out, grabbed my wrist, and pulled so hard I sprawled beside him.

  Todd immediately ran to join us. “Let me play too, let me,” he insisted, desperately afraid of being left out.

  Vincent made room for him. Cuddling us close, he said, “Up till now, I’ve never shared my immortality, never given my blood, never reproduced. I’ve enjoyed my solitude and my freedom, but after so many years I find myself questioning my selfish existence. Perhaps it’s time to grow up and take some responsibility. It might improve my character to raise a son and daughter. To be a family man.”

  He paused to kiss Todd, who was tumbling over us, nipping our fingers with sharp teeth. I reached for my brother, but Vincent squeezed my wrist till I almost cried with pain.

  “Think of it, Cynda,” he murmured. “A widowed father with two charming children, living in an elegant apartment in Manhattan. We’ll mingle with the wealthiest people in the city, go to parties, the theater, symphonies, ballets. You’ll have your pick of eligible young men. Todd will have all the playmates he desires. And I—” Vincent sighed with anticipation. “I’ll continue to find my pleasure in the usual ways.”

  He caressed my face, smoothed my hair, smiled lovingly into my eyes. “If you become mine, Cynda, you’ll never die, never grow old, never be in pain. Instead of weakening as mortals do, you’ll grow stronger and lovelier as the years pass. No wrinkles will mar your face, no gray will dull your hair. As you are now, you will be forever.”

  His voice had dropped so low it sang in my blood, conjuring up pictures of myself pale and hauntingly beautiful, dressed in black velvet, bedecked with jewelry a creature of power and beauty, a woman men would die for.

  The red mark on my neck throbbed in rhythm with my heart. I moved closer to Vincent, yearning for the quick touch of his teeth and the transformation he promised.

  Vincent smiled, his lips parted, his teeth gleamed. “What do you say, Cynda? Will you be my little girl forever? I promise I’ll be a good father, endlessly understanding and loving. I’ll never leave you, never love anyone better than you.”

  “Don’t forget me,” Todd whimpered. “You promised I could be your little boy, you promised you’d love me best, you said no baby would come along and rum everything.”

  “Of course I won’t forget you, Toddy.” Vincent hugged my brother, watching me as he did so. “You’ll be my favorite son and Cynda will be my favorite daughter. I’ll love you both the same.”

  Todd frowned at me as if he were reluctant to share Vincent with anyone.

  “I’ll let you stay up all night long,” Vincent told him. “I’ll never get cross or spank you. You can eat whatever you want, whenever you want. I’ll buy you toys, books, even a pony if you like.”

  He held Todd closer. “You know what?” he whispered. “If you decide you want a new mother, I’ll let you choose one.”

  “And she won’t have a baby?”

  “Not unless you want her to.”

  Todd sighed and lifted his face. “Kiss me, Vincent. I like how your teeth feel.”

  Vincent nuzzled Todd’s neck. The sight shattered the images of bliss he’d conjured up so skillfully. I saw him clearly. I remembered what he was. The price Todd and I would pay for the life Vincent promised was too high, too bloody, too horrible.

  With the last of my strength, I flung myself at Vincent and pounded him with my fists. “No,” I cried. “No! Take me, not Todd!”

  Vincent raised his head and smiled. “Don’t be so impatient, Cynda. You must wait your turn like a good little girl.”

  “Yes, Cynda,” Todd said, smiling drowsily. “I’m first.”

  While Vincent busied himself with my brother, I lay still, defeated. The wind sobbed at the window. Eleanor was outside in the dark, cold and frightened. Had Vincent promised
her and the other girls eternal life too?

  “Don’t cry, Cynda,” Vincent murmured, turning to me. The last thing I saw was the moon. Pale and pocked as old snow, it gazed through my window, unutterably sad and weary.

  The next afternoon, I forced myself to get out of bed, dress, comb my hair—ordinary things I used to do without thinking, without effort. Now it seemed to take all my strength to pull a sweater over my head.

  There was no sound from Vincent’s room, but when I walked into the hall, I heard the familiar noise of Susan’s sewing machine and Dad’s printer. As usual, the two of them were shut away in their own little worlds.

  I thought Todd might be asleep, but I found him alone in the living room, sitting on the floor and staring at nothing, his face pale and expressionless. His toys lay scattered on the rug beside him.

  He didn’t notice me till I knelt beside him. “What are you thinking about, Toddy?”

  “Nothing.”

  I touched his shoulder. Instead of drawing away as I feared he might, he nestled a little closer. “We played too much last night,” he said. “I’m all tired out.”

  “Me too.” I hesitated a moment. “Maybe it’s not good for us to stay up so late, Todd. Maybe it’s making us sick.”

  He pulled back to frown at me. “Vincent wouldn’t do anything bad, he loves us, he said so. I’m his little boy and you’re his little girl.”

  I took a deep breath. “You mustn’t believe everything Vincent tells you, Todd. He doesn’t, he can’t, he . . .” I couldn’t say what I wanted to say, the words slipped away, my mind felt muddled, my tongue thick.

  It didn’t really matter. Todd’s frown had deepened into a scowl. “Vincent doesn’t lie.”

  I gripped his shoulders, forcing him to look at me. “Don’t you remember how you felt when Vincent first came? You hated him, you told me he was bad.”

  “I didn’t mean it!” Todd struggled to escape. “Let me go, let me go! I’ll tell Mommy to send you away, Cynda!”

  I sat back on my heels and watched him scramble across the floor. Making him angry wasn’t going to help. “I’m sorry, Toddy, I didn’t mean to upset you.”