Crimson Kiss

by Trisha Baker

  Maggie giggled. "Just one."

  "Do you mean Simon?" Bridie asked.

  Maggie sat up with a start; she felt her cheeks turning red. Bridie had just reminded her that she'd slept with him again last night. And she felt something ominous. She remembered making love, but she couldn't remember him leaving. What the hell had happened? Why was her heart going a mile a minute? Wait… something Simon had asked her. Yes, some foolishness about bodies and souls. It was probably his way of being romantic or something. This sickness was God's way of punishing her for sleeping with a man who wasn't her husband. "He is not my boyfriend."

  "You didn't have a fight?" her father asked. He hadn't looked that upset when they found out Johnny Devlin had been wounded.

  "Calm down, Daddy. I just meant he's an… acquaintance."

  "Acquaintance?" Dr. O'Shea questioned. "All men should make acquaintances of pretty young girls like you. Does it hurt when I do this?" He started pressing down on her abdomen.

  "No more than the rest of me hurts," Maggie told him. "That's another thing… It's like my bones hurt."

  Dr. O'Shea looked at her with new concern. "Bones hurt? Open your mouth, banshee."

  Maggie opened, and he probed for a few minutes. "Okay… now tell me. You notice any bruises lately that won't go away?"

  "No."

  "And you're tired a lot? Let's get a look at your blood pressure."

  Bridie took her blood pressure. While she was applying the cuff to Maggie's arm, Maggie asked her, "When did you come home?"

  "At four. They made me work a double shift. When I think of you here by yourself, sick…"

  "Look, Bridie, I'm not on my deathbed or anything. Am I, Dr. O'Shea?"

  He raised his shaggy white eyebrows. "Deathbed? Do me a favor and save the dramatics for the movies." He took a look at the blood pressure reading and frowned. "Bridie, do the reading again, please."

  Bridie did so. When she was done, Dr. O'Shea said, "Eighty-eight over sixty… This blood pressure is too low, hon." He shot Bridie a glance to keep her quiet. "Tell me when you first started feeling sick."

  Maggie told him about how she woke up with the chills and vomiting the day before. And how she woke up the previous evening feeling better, and how the steak made her feel fine. When she was done telling him, she started feeling exhausted again.

  Dr. O'Shea noticed and said, "Lie back. Bridie, get a few pillows to prop up her legs, please. And a quilt. I don't like these blue lips and fingernails. You have a mild case of shock. A few more questions and you can go back to sleep. So the steak made you feel better? Maybe Daddy could get you some more steak? And some liver too?"

  "Of course," Jack said. "By when?"

  "The sooner, the better. Sweetheart, I want you to go to the hospital tomorrow." When Maggie started protesting, he said, "No ifs, ands, or buts about it. If today weren't Sunday, I'd admit you tonight. I need some tests to figure out what we're dealing with."

  "What do you think it is?" Maggie asked.

  "I'm not so sure. I'm going to draw a little blood." Maggie paled. "Banshee, you're still scared of needles? You give blood to all those handsome GIs and not a drop for your old friend Dr. O'Shea? Have you told your friend what we did in the old days when you needed a shot?"

  Maggie turned to Bridie while Dr. O'Shea swabbed a bit of alcohol on her upper arm. "I was such a baby… Poor Dr. O'Shea had to put on a show and get me laughing so hard I didn't notice the needle."

  Dr. O'Shea prepared the needle. "Do you remember your favorite one?" He grabbed a sheet off the bed and wrapped it around his shoulders like a cape. In a hideously terrible imitation of Bela Lugosi, he cried, "I have come to suck your blood!" Maggie and Bridie started laughing. While Maggie was laughing, Dr. O'Shea quickly inserted the needle in her arm and started drawing blood. "Just like the old days, hmmm?"

  Maggie had never liked needles, but she started shaking. She could feel the blood being taken from her and she wanted to scream out, Stop it! Leave me alone! She felt so violated. Maggie started to yank the needle out with her other hand, but Bridie grabbed her arm. "What's wrong with you, Maggie?"

  Maggie was sweating and trembling. "I don't know… I just felt like… I don't know. It wasn't the needle… it was more like I had a memory of somebody doing something terrible to me. I can't explain it—maybe I just had a bad dream or something. I'm sorry, Dr. O'Shea."

  "No harm, no foul," he answered. He removed the needle from her arm and put the blood sample in his black medical bag. "Why don't you try and rest, Maggie? Daddy and I are going to have a little talk outside."

  "I'm an adult," Maggie protested.

  "Of course you are—but right now you're a sick one. Now relax a little while… I'll be back tomorrow and we'll chat as long as you want to."

  Maggie curled up while Bridie, Jack, and Dr. O'Shea went out to the living room.

  "What's the matter with her, Doctor?" she heard her father ask. Was he shouting? Maggie thought. She could hear him as clearly as though he was still in the same room with her.

  "I'll be honest with you, Jack. I'm concerned. But we have a nurse here. What do you think is the matter with your friend?"

  "I'd guess anemia, Doctor." Why did they go outside to talk about me if they're going to be so loud? Then Maggie realized that even though she could hear them clearly, there was a muffled quality to their voices—like they were whispering. So why can I hear them ? Every thing else about me is falling apart, but I've suddenly got incredible hearing.

  "She has all the symptoms of anemia," Dr. O'Shea answered. "The pale skin, listlessness, low blood pressure. But the onset is a little sudden—especially with the shock. Bridie, when did she last give blood?"

  "Two months ago, Doctor."

  "Two months? Well, I don't think she has internal bleeding. Of course, we'll need some X rays to rule it out completely. But it's almost like she's suffering from severe blood loss. And she has other symptoms that bother me—that fever and the bone ache."

  "What could that be a symptom of?" Jack asked worriedly.

  Dr. O'Shea sighed. "Now, Jack, I don't want you getting excited. It's very likely that all she has is anemia or maybe some sort of virus…"

  "Spit it out, Doctor. What do you think she has?"

  "Jack, there's a very small chance this could be leukemia."

  Leukemia! Maggie's heart started beating rapidly. Holy Jesus Christ! People died from that. I can't die, Maggie thought desperately. I'm supposed to get married in a month; I'm only eighteen years old.

  "But she's missing a lot of the major symptoms," Dr. O'Shea was saying. "No sores in her mouth, no bruising, and the liver and spleen don't seem enlarged. But we have to be alert for symptoms like that Now I've taken the blood sample, so we should know in a few days what we're dealing with. Tomorrow I want Bridie to bring her by the hospital—we're going to do a complete set of tests. In the meantime, we're going on the anemia theory. Jack, get her that meat tonight if you can. I want her eating steak and liver morning, noon, and night. Bridie, I want you to go out and get some castor oil. I'm also going to write you a prescription for iron pills and some tranquilizers in case Maggie gets a little restless tonight. I want her to get as much sleep as she can. You can get it filled at the hospital."

  Bridie and Jack came back into the bedroom. Jack kissed her on the cheek and left. Bridie propped her legs up with some pillows, put an extra quilt on the bed, and asked, "Do you want anything before I go out?"

  "Maybe something to read. I'm having trouble falling asleep." She couldn't fall asleep because she'd been anxious since Bridie mentioned Simon's name. What was that all about?

  Bridie brought her some movie magazines. When Maggie frowned, Bridie told her, "No getting involved in a novel and forgetting to sleep. Those magazines are just what the doctor ordered." Bridie turned on the lamp by the bed, and started to leave.

  "Bridie, tell me the truth. Am I really sick?"

  "Honey, the doctor has to run some tests before
he knows what's wrong." Bridie fluffed her pillows. "Now, you heard Dr. O'Shea—try and get some rest."

  Maggie noted that Bridie hadn't answered her question. Wait, Maggie thought desperately. Don't leave me by myself; I'm scared. Then her common sense challenged her. What did she have to be scared of? And what could she tell Bridie? Don't go; I'm scared. I'm scared Simon will get me. Wait a minute—what left field had that thought come out of? I'm sick, she told herself firmly, my mind is playing tricks on me. Next I'll see pink elephants on the ceiling.

  Maggie tried to read the magazines but couldn't concentrate. She was frightened that when Dr. O'Shea put her in the hospital tomorrow, she'd never leave. What if it turned out she did have leukemia? And she couldn't get rid of that nameless anxiety that was making her hands shake. It seemed like it was getting worse as the sun set farther in the sky. What am I so scared of? I'm a little old to be scared of the dark.

  Maggie's left leg, which still hurt, was starting to itch terribly. Damn, she thought to herself, I forgot to tell Dr. O'Shea about that pain in my kg. Maggie started to scratch but felt something odd. It was almost like two holes in her skin. Could she have cut herself somehow? Maybe all she had was some sort of infection.

  Maggie threw the bedsheets off and pushed her nightgown up. The cuts were on the inside of her left thigh, and difficult to see. Maggie bent down and tilted the lamp so that it illuminated her leg.

  That's strange, she thought, getting a better look at the marks. That was the only word she could think of for them… "marks." They were two jagged, somewhat circular holes with dried blood on them. She put the lamp back on the nightstand. How the hell did that happen? Maggie thought. Had something bitten her?

  The second the word "bitten" went through her mind everything fell into place. Maggie leaned back against the pillows, her heart galloping and her body shaking. Even her lips were trembling. Maggie remembered now. She remembered how those two nights with Simon Baldevar ended. He made love to her, and then with long vicious fangs, he bit into her thigh and sucked her blood. And she had given him permission to do it.

  "No!" she screamed out loud. NO! NO! NO! It can't be true, she told herself, and it's insane to even think it. Are you saying Simon is a vampire? That's ridiculous. Vampires don't exist.

  But she looked at her shaking hands, and a part of her knew it was true. Look at those marks, a voice told her. What else could have made them? And have you ever seen Simon Baldevar during the day?

  Wait a second, she told herself firmly. It doesn't mean anything that I haven't seen him during the day. I've only known the man for two days; maybe he was busy during the day. But she knew somebody who should have seen him during the day.

  She put her legs over the side of the bed and felt dizzy. It took her a full minute to get over the attack. She made it to the kitchen dragging herself along the wall and walking very slowly.

  She grabbed the phone, but her hand was shaking so hard it took her a few minutes to dial the number correctly. "Pauline?"

  "I'm not talking to you," the girl told her petulantly. "After you tried to steal Simon from me…"

  "Look," Maggie cried out, "I'm not interested in him. If you want him, have him. I need to know—"

  "I do have him," Pauline said in triumph. "We have a date in a half hour for dinner at the Plaza."

  Maggie glanced out the window. Damn! It would be completely dark in a half hour; Pauline's date wouldn't prove a thing. Maggie poured every ounce of charm and persuasion she had into her voice. "Pauline, you're right to be mad."

  "I know I am. And I'm hanging up."

  "No!" Maggie screamed. "Please, don't. Pauline, I'm really sick. Please, I need your help."

  "Jesus, Maggie. You scared me to death… screaming like that." Pauline relented. "Anyway, now that I know Simon likes me, I'm not so mad. What's the matter?"

  "I just want to know one thing. Have you ever seen Simon during the day? Or maybe your mother met him for lunch?"

  "What kind of off-the-wall question is that?"

  "Just tell me," Maggie pleaded.

  A gloating tone entered Pauline's voice. "Is he giving you the runaround? Too busy to see the great Maggie O'Neill during the day? I know you're not used to fellows putting you off."

  "Yes, fine, whatever you want," Maggie said desperately. "Just tell me if you or your mom has seen him when the sun was in the sky."

  "Maggie, whatever you're sick with, I think it's gone to your head. You have to understand that someone like Simon is very busy during the day with business arrangements…"

  "Your mother is engaged in a business deal with him. Has she ever met him during the day?"

  "What is so important about seeing him during the day?"

  "Pauline!"

  "All right, already. Anything to get you off the phone." Pauline considered. "They had dinner yesterday… and he came to the party… a few days before that they met for drinks. Hmmm, guess what, Maggie? We've only seen him at night. Satisfied?"

  That was not what Maggie wanted to hear. She wanted Pauline to tell her they met for lunch all the time so that she could put her insane thoughts to rest. But those marks and now no one had seen him during the day…

  "Pauline?"

  "Now what?"

  "Maybe you should cancel your date."

  "I knew it! I knew you were jealous! How does it feel to have the shoe on the other foot for a change? Get used to it, Maggie. Simon prefers me to you and hell will freeze over before I cancel a date with him." Pauline hung up.

  Panic had made Maggie's mouth dry. She decided to go into the kitchen and get a glass of water. Simon will be here for you soon, now that it's dark, that same voice told her.

  "Shut up," Maggie said out loud. At least leukemia was rational. People died young; she'd learn to accept it if she had to. But she was not about to go around having warped fantasies about some man she hardly knew being a blood-sucking vampire.

  As Maggie was filling the water glass, a new thought occurred to her, and she went limp with relief. Maybe this was all psychosomatic! Yes, that made perfect sense. She'd learned all about psychosomatic illness in that psychology class she'd taken last semester. She examined the facts. Each time she slept with Simon she woke up horribly ill the next day. Of course! She felt guilty and the guilt was manifesting itself in physical symptoms. After all, what she'd done went completely against her upbringing. And she'd betrayed her fiancé. Now she was punishing herself with fever and delusions. Maybe she needed to see a psychoanalyst.

  Maggie took the water back into the bedroom, her head throbbing miserably. She saw that Bridie's lipstick had fallen off the vanity table. Maggie reached down to pick it up and place it back on the vanity. She moved too quickly when she straightened up; another dizzy spell attacked her. She grabbed the vanity table for support, and took several deep breaths. When she looked up, she was staring directly into the mirror above the vanity. What she saw made her gasp.

  Maggie could find a rational explanation for the marks on her leg and her memories. But there was nothing rational about the hellish thing she saw staring back at her in the mirror.

  Maggie wasn't casting a full reflection. Her image in the mirror was see-through. Through her body, she could see the bed behind her.

  "No," Maggie whimpered. She put a trembling hand up and watched it go through her face.

  That half image made it impossible to deny what was going on. Maggie kept staring, then found the voice to scream and scream and scream again. She kept screaming until a merciful blackness descended on her consciousness and she slumped to the floor.

  Maggie woke up, and felt the nubbles of the rug against her cheek. She opened her eyes and saw a pair of polished black shoes in front of her. Maggie pushed herself up on her hands and saw Simon Baldevar in front of her. He held out his hand to her, and Maggie saw the two huge fangs sticking out of his mouth. She started screaming…

  Still screaming from the dream (memory?), she found herself on a strange bed. S
he tried to jump off the bed and found that she couldn't. Her wrists were chained to the bedpost.

  "Oh, God," she whimpered. Maggie looked at her arms. Each wrist had a gold manacle on it that was attached to heavy gold chains secured to the bedpost. Her arms ached; she must have been tied up for a long time.

  Maggie started struggling wildly, tearing at the chains. She yanked and yanked to no avail. And the effort was making her feel dizzy.

  Oh, Jesus, where am I? Why am I not at home? Did someone kidnap me? Am I going to be raped? Murdered?

  Tears started falling down her cheeks, and Maggie was sobbing hysterically. What's happening to me? I don't cast a reflection anymore and now I've been kidnapped. What else can happen?

  As though some malicious force wished to show Maggie exactly what could happen, Simon Baldevar appeared in front of the bed. How else could she describe it? One minute he wasn't there and the next minute he was there—like magic. She thought a shadow might have been there for a split second before he appeared.

  Maggie gaped at the apparition in front of her, the shock cutting off her sobs. What in the name of God was Simon?

  "God has very little to do with what I am, sweet child," Simon said, and reached over to caress her cheek.

  Maggie moved her face away, and Simon yanked her hair, hard. He kept his other hand on her cheek. "Don't ever attempt to move away from me, Meghann."

  Bound, her scalp stinging from the pain, Maggie stared into his eyes. This was not the same man who'd taken her on the ferry and chatted with her father. That had just been an illusion. Now she was with something else, some evil creature with eyes blazing with a hard, bright, unholy light. They made Maggie feel utterly helpless. There would be no way for her to plead with this… thing.

  "Don't think of me as a thing." Although Simon's tone was pleasant enough, there seemed to be menace underlying it. He released her hair. "I am known as a vampire."

  Maggie found her voice again. "You can read my mind?"

  "I can read any mortal."

  That meant that every minute she was with him, her thoughts were as clear as though she'd shouted them. Outraged at the thought of being so violated, Maggie spat in his face.