by Trisha Baker
"I can't wear red," she protested. "It's going to look horrible with my hair."
Simon stroked the long red hair. "You have beautiful hair, darling. But I think you'll wish to disguise it when you hunt for prey—it's far too distinctive." He handed her a long, frizzy blond wig.
She put it on, careful to make sure her real hair was completely covered. "I look awful!" she wailed. "Cheap and tacky—like some streetwalker!"
"Precisely the effect I was looking for—and you could never look awful." He eyed the costume with amusement.
She wobbled on the precarious heels for a few minutes before she was able to walk normally. "It's not enough you made me a vampire—now you're going to turn me into a hooker?"
Simon chuckled. "What an amusing creature you are, Meghann. And I would never turn my pretty little consort into a hooker—but you're about to find it an invaluable disguise."
Simon escorted her to the Times Square area, where several women had on outfits that made Meghann's look conservative. With her newly improved vision, she also spotted several hard-looking men lurking in dark corners, keeping an eye on the garishly dressed women.
"Are those pimps?" she asked Simon.
"I would imagine so," he replied. "Their merchandise leaves much to be desired, in my opinion."
"Will they bother us?"
"No one bothers me, sweet." As though he was illustrating the point, one of the pimps started stalking over to Simon, widened his eyes, and then retreated back to his corner.
"What did you do?" Meghann asked.
"I put a vivid image in his head of what can happen to mortals who bother the wrong person—something you will learn how to do in time. For now, I want you to focus your entire attention on one person—try that man over there." Simon pointed to a rotund gentleman standing under a streetlight a few feet from them. "What did I tell you about the radio?"
"To turn the volume all the way down."
"Now you are going to look at him and turn the volume up a tiny bit."
Meghann looked at the man and imagined turning the volume up. Immediately the noise of the street assaulted her. Myriad thoughts—I need a fix; he'll kill me if I don't get a john; my feet hurt—rushed through her head. She staggered, and would have fallen if Simon hadn't grabbed her by the shoulders.
"Steady," Simon whispered. "Concentrate, Meghann. Center your entire attention upon him… No one else exists."
Meghann opened her eyes and looked at the man again. She was standing at least four feet from him, but with her new senses, she could make out every detail.
She smelled the cologne he wore; she observed that his gray suit was a good cut but ill-kept. There were small wrinkles and a minuscule food stain on the lapel. His grossly fat stomach had caused two buttons to pop on his white shirt.
As Meghann stared, she cautiously raised the volume by a fraction. This time, it worked; she received his thoughts without interference from anyone else on the street.
She turned to Simon, delighted with herself. "It's working!" she shouted in triumph. Several people turned to stare, but they looked away when Simon waved his hand. He grinned at Meghann, and silently told her to lower her voice.
"His name is Arnold Greene," she whispered. Simon nodded in encouragement and Meghann went on. "He's sixty-two years old, and married. He's a corporate attorney, and he makes a lot of money, but he's here tonight because… because…" Meghann got the full thrust of his thoughts and snapped, "Oh, that's disgusting!"
"I suppose it is distasteful when you take the fellow's appearance into account. But how can you turn his desire to your advantage?"
"What do you mean?"
"He wants a pretty young girl to satisfy desires his wife finds repugnant." Simon raised his eyebrows. "Don't you fit the bill?"
Now Meghann understood the purpose of the hooker garb. What an ingenious way to find men, get them alone, and drain their blood!
Simon saw understanding bloom on her face. "Go to him, sweetheart. There is a cheap motel a block away. He'll take you there, and you'll take his blood." He saw some slight anxiety cross her face. He patted her awful wig for support. "Don't be frightened. I'll be nearby if anything goes wrong. But I have a feeling it won't—I think you're going to pass this test with flying colors." Without warning, Simon disappeared. No one seemed to take any notice. When will he show me how to do that? Meghann wondered.
Taking a deep breath, she walked over to Arnold Greene, ignoring the baleful stares of the whores.
One grabbed her arm, and hissed, "This is my corner, sister!"
Meghann pushed her. She thought it a slight nudge, but the woman flew off the ground and crashed into a row of trash cans. None of the other hookers bothered Meghann.
She tapped Arnold on the shoulder. He turned around, and she smiled sweetly. "Hello, would you like a date?"
Arnold stared at her, mouth slightly open.
Come on, she thought impatiently. Ask me how much.
"How much?"
My God, she thought. All I have to do is think something, and people do what I tell them. This new mental ability combined with the physical strength made her look at vampirism in a new light. Maybe this is a good thing, after all. Meghann was so electrified by the thought of her new power that she almost forgot about the man in front of her.
Since she hadn't responded, the man plowed ahead. "Look," he said, poking her shoulder to get her attention, "I'll go five dollars and the price of the room. Take it or leave it."
"Fine."
Arnold Greene smiled, exposing several missing teeth. "Let's go."
He escorted her to a seedy-looking hotel that had several disreputable characters lolling around in the dimly lit and foul-smelling lobby. He paid the clerk and got the key to a small, dark, tacky room that had an ancient scarred wooden dresser and a sagging metal-frame bed. With her new hearing, Meghann heard a man beating a woman with a belt in a room several doors down; she also heard roaches scurrying through the walls. That sound made her shiver—she hated bugs.
"You're awfully pretty," Arnold told her, tearing off his suit. "Have you been doing this long?"
"No. Actually, you're my first," she smiled.
"Oh, yeah?" he questioned, vanity puffing him up. "Well, I tell you what—we'll start you off light, honey. Just give me a blow job."
"A what?" she asked blankly. She wouldn't look into his head for clarification—that sounded thoroughly repulsive.
Arnold pushed his pants down around his ankles. "You know—put it in your mouth and suck me off." He gestured impatiently to his penis. "Come on, honey, get on your knees. I'm paying you good money." He placed a $5 bill on the dresser.
Meghann resisted an urge to giggle. How ironic. She'd been transformed into a vampire, drank blood, and she still could be shocked by the thought of a previously unknown sex act. She was about to object when she remembered a most interesting fact from biology class: During an erection, the penis fills with blood.
No, she couldn't do that… could she? Well, why not? Hadn't she murdered her own fiancé to satisfy the blood lust several hours before? If she could kill Johnny, the boy who gave her her first kiss, whom she fully expected to marry before the end of summer…
A rough hand on her shoulders yanked Meghann out of her reverie. "Get on your fucking knees."
"Get your filthy hands off me!" Meghann snarled, and the mortal backed away so fast one would have thought her skin had turned to fire beneath his hand.
"I don't want any trouble," Arnold whined, and started to shuffle nervously toward the door, hampered by the pants still pooled around his feet.
"Come on, baby," Meghann cooed. She gave him the most enchanting smile she could muster, and hastily unbuttoned her top to expose her breasts. "Don't leave when I haven't had a chance to show you a good time yet."
She didn't know if it was her conciliatory tone, her half-naked body that enticed him, or maybe the mortal simply couldn't resist when Meghann told him not to leave. He cam
e away from the door and hurried toward her.
Meghann obediently fell to her knees and gave him a wanton leer before taking the stubby, little penis into her mouth. If Arnold had left, she thought, God only knows what Simon would have done to her.
"Oh," Arnold panted, and mashed her head against his fat stomach, "Yeah, that's good… hey!" Pangs of pleasure changed to paroxysms of pain when Meghann sank her blood teeth deep into his penis. Arnold spun around wildly, trying desperately to wrench himself away from the inexorable grip of her teeth. "Stop! Oh, God!" he gasped. His hands on her shoulders weakened, and he sank to the floor, moaning in agony. His penis seemed alive with nerves, each one aching as she sucked the blood from him. He began praying to die, anything to escape the horrible torment this witch was inflicting on him. His last thought was that he would be found in this motel, everyone knowing his shame.
Meghann found an exhilaration she never dreamed existed as Arnold's blood flooded her mouth. This was even better than the neck or wrist—it provided so much blood, so quickly. Why had blood repulsed her when she was mortal? It was wonderful, the strength she gained from feeding. She felt like she could knock down buildings single-handed, and she felt her mind expanding. There was a feeling of great superiority to the man she was feeding off. What was he? Nothing, Simon was right, they were only food. Oh, how alive and invigorated the blood made her!
When Arnold died, his penis went limp and Meghann's blood supply was cut off. She gazed at the man dispassionately. He was completely pale, and his sightless eyes were looking at her with an expression of pain fixed there for eternity. She leaned over and shut them, wondering what she was supposed to do next.
She looked up at the sound of applause. Simon stood in the open doorway. "Darling child," he said, gesturing to the mutilated penis, "you have a talent for depravity I never guessed at." He shut the door and came into the cheap room.
Meghann wiped the blood off her mouth with the filthy sheet from the bed. This time, she hadn't gotten any blood on her body or clothing. "Well, when he asked me to do that… you know," she explained, coloring slightly, "it occurred to me that it would be a perfect way to take blood and—"
Simon picked her up and swung her around. "What a sweet child you are… to be embarrassed by what that swine asked of you. And you were right—it is an excellent manner of feeding. Not one I would choose to use, but very effective for a female vampire. One thing, sweetheart." He put her down, tilting her chin up to him.
"What I have taught you tonight is an excellent ruse to lure prey. But you are never, never to sleep with any man you feed off. I would consider that infidelity. Do you understand me?"
She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him hungrily. When she broke off, she asked him softly, "Why would I want to sleep with them?"
Simon looked down at her, desire darkening his eyes.
"Have you any idea how much you please me?" Then he reached into his blazer and handed Meghann a straight-back razor. "But your lessons for the evening are incomplete." He took her back to Arnold's corpse. "Eradicate the puncture marks with the razor. When you feed, you cannot leave behind any hint that the death could have been caused by a vampire. Now, when the body is discovered, the overworked coroner will assume that a particularly vicious whore killed this man and robbed him. You may also want to consider using a weapon like this from time to time instead of your blood teeth." Simon took Arnold's wallet and pocketed the cash, leaving his identification intact. Then he threw the wallet to the floor and leaned against the peeling, water-stained wallpaper; his expression was one of keen interest as Meghann glanced uneasily between the razor in her hands and the dead man's penis.
Hadn't she just killed this man and felt nothing but contempt for him while she did it? So why was she unable to do as Simon ordered and slash through the incriminating marks so no one would suspect Arnold Greene's true cause of death?
Just do it, Meghann told herself, and brought the shiny steel tip of the razor to the flaccid penis, but then her eyes fell on her victim's wallet. It had landed faceup, exposing a black-and-white photo that made Meghann suck in her breath and blink hard at the tears filling her eyes.
The picture, yellowed from age and crumbling at the edges, showed a smiling Arnold Greene wearing a striped polo shirt with his arm around a little girl Meghann guessed to be about seven or so. The child was no beauty, but she had an enchanting gap-toothed grin and she clutched a huge panda bear almost as big I as she was. In the background, Meghann saw the gargantuan, brightly lit Wonder Wheel at Coney Island.
That's his daughter, Meghann thought, and she flung the razor from her, picked up the wallet, and ran her hand gingerly over the picture. I bet he won that panda for his little girl; just like my daddy won so many toys for me. Oh, this is so wrong—what is this poor girl going to do without her father? What have I done?
"Enough." Simon moved to grab the wallet from her, but Meghann tightened her grip and screamed "No!" at the top of her voice.
"Give me that wallet, Meghann," Simon ordered, seeming unaffected by the high-pitched screech that put a crack in the wall beside him. Simon's icy, inhuman whisper, combined with an expression that hinted no end of misery was in store for her if she didn't obey, made Meghann reluctantly place the wallet in her master's hands. Her expression was wary and tense when she glanced up at him.
"Leave me alone!" she shrieked when Simon's hand inched toward her. Panicked, Meghann glanced at the straight-back razor and it trembled violently on the floor before it rose up and flew into her hands.
"You have such promise, little one," Simon said, and Meghann turned her astonished gaze toward him.
"I did this?" she questioned hesitantly. "But how?"
"It's called telekinesis," Simon said, and crouched down next to her. "It's the ability to move objects with your mind."
"You're saying my mind made that razor rise off the floor and into my hands?" At Simon's nod, Meghann protested. "But I didn't tell it to do that at all… Really, I didn't. I wouldn't try to hurt you."
Simon laughed lightly and planted a quick kiss on her temple. "But you were afraid I was about to hurt you for disobeying, weren't you?"
"Are you going to hurt me?" Meghann asked uneasily, and Simon laughed again, placing his hands over hers.
"Hurt you? What on earth for?" Simon slipped the razor from her hands, holding it up to the light of the single bulb in the ugly room. "I merely meant to help you finish your work, but in your fear, you thought I'd harm you. It was that fear that brought this new power to life inside you… Your mind put the weapon in your hands so you'd be safe. Would you like to try again?"
"You mean move something else? Oh, yes!" Meghann said, her brief remorse for what she'd done to Arnold Greene utterly forgotten.
Simon arched his hand back and flung the razor at the wall. His aim was accurate and the blade sank halfway through the crumbling plaster wall.
"Get it out of the wall, Meghann, and back into your hands."
Meghann stared at the protruding blade and held her hand out, imagining the blade sliding out of the wall and into her hands. Before she knew what was happening, the thing flew right at her and she ducked to avoid being slashed in the face.
"Simon," she gasped when he handed her the razor after she finally sat up. "I did it—I really did it! I thought something and I made it happen! This is wonderful!"
"Indeed it is." Simon smiled and gestured to the dead man. "Don't you see, darling, that you and I are far, far above our prey? Don't waste your emotions on them or feel shame. Simply do what you need to do and don't give them another thought."
"It's not him I'm concerned with." Meghann tried to explain her sentiments; she picked up the wallet again. "It's just—Simon, can't you see? I feel bad for his family."
"Why? Did you tell Arnold Greene to venture into a dangerous area and satisfy his base urges with some cheap harlot?"
"Well, no, but—"
"There's no but, Meghann. Was he not a grown man
, fully aware of the risk he was taking? It is he who has brought shame and grief to his family by choosing to come here this evening, not you. You merely did as any intelligent vampire does and took advantage of the situation. Aren't you happy with the power you gained by draining him?"
Meghann nodded, thinking not only of the fascinating telekinesis but that absolute rush of power and almost unbearable exhilaration she felt when she drank blood.
"If you want to keep experiencing that pleasure without drawing very unwelcome attention to yourself, you must cover your tracks. Now go on, sweetheart. Use that razor as I taught you. That thing on the floor is not your equal or worthy of your guilt."
Simon's right, Meghann told herself firmly, and brought the razor down, slashing through a sizeable chunk of the man's penis to eradicate the wounds. All the while, she swallowed the bile in her throat and drowned out her outraged conscience's protest by repeating over and over, It's okay. He's not equal to me, not anymore, not ever again…
"There now," Simon said when she was done, hugging her close. "You'll see how easy it gets with time. And you don't always have to do this. There's drowning, setting fire to the corpse, all sorts of ways to hide our presence from mortals."
Meghann nodded and buried her face in his shirt so she wouldn't have to look at the mutilated corpse, but she pulled away immediately, offended by the cloying scent of cheap perfume clinging to Simon's clothing.
"Where were you before you came in here?" she demanded, and the corners of Simon's mouth quirked at her suspicious tone.
"Why, I had to feed too, little one. I used the young lady you shoved into the trash cans. Needless to say, she is on her way to hell as we speak."
"Did you sleep with her? After everything you just said about infidelity and how I'm never supposed to sleep with anyone I feed from…"
Meghann thought her heated words would anger him, but Simon only stared into her mutinous eyes, smiling gently. "What did you just ask me? Sweet, why would I want a drug-addled, passably pretty but well-used whore when I have you? If my clothing reeks from her, it is simply because her body was pressed to mine when I fed from her. Now erase that scowl from your pretty face—you need not fear I'll be untrue. I only want you, darling."
