Kissing Corpses

by Amy Leigh Strickland

  “Your teeth...”

  Rawdon put his hand over his mouth. When he moved it away, his teeth looked human once more. “Sorry. I had a moment... I guess I got defensive.”

  “I didn't realize it would be those teeth,” I said. “Movie vampires always have long canines.”

  “Like dogs? Yes. That's a misconception. Dogs can do it because of their elongated snout. It would be rather hard for a human mouth to bite any of the major arteries with the fangs so far back,” he said. “Except maybe the wrist. But neck and thigh would be hard to reach.”

  I shuddered. Rawdon pulled the UV gun out of the box. He put it back and shook his head.

  “Do you know who sent this, Rawdon?”

  It took him a few minutes to answer me. He looked at the tag and then walked to the window to look around my yard.

  “Rawdon,” I said. “Who sent this?”

  “His name is Gilchrist. Liam Gilchrist. He's a religious fanatic and he's been stalking me for some time.”

  “Stalking you?”

  “He's decided that it's his personal mission from God to kill me. “

  “Oh... that's pleasant,” I said. “How long is 'some time'?”

  “Fifteen years.”

  “Wonderful.” I sat down hard on my bed. Rawdon was immediately at my side with his arm around my shoulders.

  “Don't worry,” he said. “I'm more than capable of handling a human with garlic and holy water.”

  “He's been trying to kill you for fifteen years, Rawdon,” I said. “He knows I'm involved with you. He left that package for me.”

  “Unfortunate,” he said. “But nothing I can't handle. He's been trying for fifteen years and so far he's only come close once.”

  “How close?”

  “He took someone I cared about,” Rawdon said. “My maker. That was at the start. He took us by surprise. But we are prepared for him this time and I have a plan.”

  “You should have warned me about him, as soon as I knew you were a vampire.” I felt like I had been tricked. I had been drawn into this romance without all of the details, and now it was getting messy.

  “I'm sorry,” he said. Rawdon touched my cheek. His fingertips trailed down to my neck as he leaned forward to kiss me. In seconds I was laying back on the bed and he was over me. His body gave off no heat, even as his tongue darted against my neck and his hands squeezed my thighs. I kept thinking about the package and the refrigerator full of bank blood. How had I gotten into this mess?

  I was distracted. With my thoughts elsewhere and his skin cool to touch, I wasn't allowing myself to be seduced-- except it was still happening. I was watching the top of his head as he slowly discarded articles of my clothing. This lack of focus was no spell. I just wasn't into it.

  I closed my eyes as he settled between my legs. Without the body heat, it was really hard to light my fire. I was on autopilot, a bad omen for only our second tryst.

  Of course, it's easy enough to zone out through foreplay. When the actual event had begun, my senses were alert. I wished I had paid more attention because I wasn't properly warmed up.

  Some time later we laid in bed. His chest was pressed against my back and his arms were wrapped around me. I drifted off to a shallow sleep. I slipped in and out of dreams about opening Christmas presents to find stakes and garlic inside.

  When I woke up, Rawdon was stroking my hair. “Shh, you can sleep,” he said. “I apologize for any trouble my nocturnal nature has caused you.”

  I closed my eyes again. I was utterly exhausted; he would hear no argument from me.

  He kissed my cheek and whispered cool against my ear. “I love you.”

  I was already too far down the road to sleep to bother thinking of anything to say in reply.

  I managed to have a night to myself on Wednesday. Rawdon appeared at my door after work, like he had every night before, and I told him that I needed to sleep. Staying out all night was wearing on me. I couldn't keep burning the candle at both ends. It was killing me.

  He gave me his phone number so that I could call him when I needed him and I went about my normal evening routine. The early winter sunset meant that I had a couple of hours before a reasonable bed time. Geneva brought home Chinese. After boxing up the leftover Mongolian Beef for lunch the next day, I sat down with my laptop in front of the TV and flicked through a blog full of funny cat photos. Geneva controlled Netflix, and so we watched old episodes of Doctor Who.

  Thursday night I went to see a movie with Geneva. It was a romance and it wasn't very good. We were the only two people in the theater. We stocked up on popcorn and candy in the lobby, and once it became clear that the film was irredeamable, we spent the rest of it chomping loudly on our snacks and heckling the screen.

  Friday, he arrived on my doorstep, looking worried.

  “You didn't call yesterday. When I came here, you were gone.”

  “I went out with Geneva. I'm fine.”

  “I thought... well with Gilchrist.”

  “I'm fine. I just needed a few days to myself.”

  “Oh.”

  He followed me into the house. I was still cleaning up the dishes from dinner.

  “Let me help,” Rawdon said. He took the dish out of my hand and turned to the sink to sponge it off. I picked up a towel to start drying the dishes in the rack.

  We worked quietly for a minute. I wondered about my annoyance at his arrival and realized that I wasn't at all excited to see him again. He was more trouble than he was worth. Sure, on paper, he was a dream boat. Sophisticated, immortal, handsome, well-dressed, he was everything a girl could ask for. The undead part was a big, big damper on that. And God, he was getting clingy.

  “Is Geneva home?” he asked.

  I shook my head, “The library has some author in from Canada, so she's working the event. She'll probably be home in about two hours.”

  Rawdon smiled. I imagined those fangs I had seen on Tuesday night, even though he wasn't baring them. “Good. I wanted to talk to you.”

  “About?” I hung the damp towel on the handle of the oven.

  “About Gilchrist. About us.”

  I listened and waited for him to go on. Rawdon started up again, “I have not told you about my abilities,” he explained. “You have seen my fangs. You know I am immortal. But beyond that, I have not shown you the perks of being undead.”

  I picked up the towel again and decided to fold it neatly, just to give my hands something to do. “You said some vampires can fly. Can you?” I asked.

  He shook his head, “No. I cannot change shape, either, though that's a common power for the more bestial of the species..”

  “Do you teleport? Like through shadows and mist?”

  He laughed. “No. There are very few vampires who can do that, and they are ancient and insane, they are reclusive and will not likely reproduce to spread the trait.”

  “So what can you do?” I asked. My curiosity was piqued.

  “I have superhuman strength,” he said. “I can heal my wounds in seconds. I can obscure myself in shadows and shape them around me.”

  “Like in the alley,” I said.

  “Shadows have an affinity with me. I'm afraid I couldn't stop them from creeping out to touch me if I wanted to.”

  “Charming.”

  “I have heightened senses. Increased speed and reflexes. I see perfectly in the dark.”

  “What's with the glasses?”

  “They make humans assume I'm weaker than I am. Since I started wearing them fifty years ago, regular humans have stopped noticing the little signs. Like the shadows.”

  “Oh.” I leaned back against the kitchen counter and watched him. Instead of seeing him as a man, I was beginning to see him as a powerful, dangerous creature, like a tiger, walking around my kitchen. “And the hypnotism,” I said. “With the eye contact?”

  He nodded. “Others can climb walls, talk to animals, and spread plagues. Usually those powers go with the vampires who can turn int
o bats.”

  I looked at the mirror over the kitchen sink. He was standing in it, clear as I was. “And what about mirrors? Why can I see you? Is that just a myth.”

  Rawdon looked at the mirror. He turned his face to examine himself. “I fade from them, but when I've just eaten, I appear as alive as you.”

  “So you fed...”

  “From bank blood before I came over. Yes.”

  “What happens if you don't feed? Do you die?”

  He shook his head. “I age. I can look like an ancient, walking corpse and still be animated. The more well-fed I am, the younger I look until I reach the point of death. I keep a pretty steady stock through my connection at the hospital,” he added. “But if I let myself become elderly, one drink of blood would not restore me to this point. It's cumulative.”

  The image of Rawdon drinking from a straw stabbed into a bag of blood made me shiver. He was too busy looking in the mirror to notice.

  “The mirrors... those happen a lot faster. Twelve hours from now I'll look like a ghost in the mirror and in twenty-four hours I would look like mist. Any longer and I'd be completely invisible.”

  He followed me from the kitchen to the living-room, all the while continuing his speech. I wondered if he had rehearsed it.

  “Which brings me to my point. The powers. We may not walk in the sun, but the gift of the vampire bloodline could protect you from Gilchrist. You would be faster, stronger, more alert, and any wounds inflicted would seal up in seconds. We could end this chase together, and then my un-death would not be so lonely.”

  I stopped and turned around. “You want to make me a vampire?”

  “I love you,” he said. I knew I had heard him whisper it on Tuesday night, but I had hoped it had been part of a dream. He slipped his arms around my waist, stepping close to me. Without the warmth of body heat, the gesture lost its comfort. Instead I felt trapped.

  “That's a really big decision, Rawdon.”

  “It's an easy one for me.”

  “Right. Well, you're already dead.”

  Rawdon hesitated. He looked down at me, locking those cold blue eyes with mine. “Don't you want to be with me?” he asked. “Don't you want to have eternity to be together?”

  He wasn't using his hypnotic gaze, but I still felt like he was staring right through me. I had to tell him the truth. I couldn't let this go on. I had let it go too deep, too fast. “Rawdon... I'm not sure I want the next year together. Eternity is out of the question right now.”

  He just stared at me. Without breathing, without blinking, I realized that I was looking back at a corpse.

  I listened as the silver clock in the hallway ticked steadily. He didn't move a hair. When he finally did move, he pulled me tighter against his body. “You don't want to be with me?” he asked. There was an edge on his voice. His pupils shrank. The facade of humanity had dropped. I was scared.

  “I... well...” I started to backpedal. “I just need time to think, you know? It hasn't even been a week. I need a little time to get used to the idea of being dead. For one, I would have to leave my family. My brother would miss me. But I like you.”

  He blinked. The appearance of life came back to him. I now saw that every sigh, every blink, every reaction to life around him was a deliberate choice. I didn't want to become that.

  “You're right. It's a big decision to ask you to make on the spot. I had just hoped that you were as excited as I was. Take a day. See your family. Say goodbye to the sun.”

  He wasn't giving me a day to think about it. He was giving me a day to come to terms with it.

  “Come. Let's go to bed,” he said. He turned and walked down the hall to my room. I followed him, not arguing, because I feared how he would react if I refused.

  I awoke to the sun shining through my window. I had never been so happy to see it in my life. I got up, dressed, and went outside to enjoy the touch of it on my skin. Sure, the ground was covered in snow. Sure, it was freezing outside. It still felt nice to stand in the sun.

  Geneva followed me out in her fleece pajamas and her hard-soled slippers. “Why are you up at seven on a Saturday?”

  “I just wanted to get some fresh air.”

  “Well, come inside before you freeze. It's supposed to snow again today.”

  I followed Geneva inside. She was one of those people who couldn't go back to sleep once she'd been woken up.

  “Rawdon's car was here when I got in last night. Did he go home already?”

  I nodded.

  “He stayed late... did you...?”

  I sat down next to her on the couch. “Geneva,” I started. “I have to tell you something. Don't think I'm crazy.”

  “That never prefaces something good.”

  “I think Rawdon is going to kill me.”

  “What?!?” she shrieked.

  “Listen, hear me out. He's not what you think. He's not what I thought. He's insane.”

  “Jesus Christ, Kendall.”

  “He's--” I stopped myself. She wouldn't believe me if I told her. “He thinks he's a vampire.”

  She stopped. She stared at me. She began to laugh.

  “I'm not kidding,” I said. I started to cry.

  “Holy sh...” she censored herself. “You're not kidding.”

  Someone knocked on the door. Geneva jumped.

  “It's daylight. It's not him,” I said, though I couldn't tell her what would happen to him in the sunshine. He hadn't told me.

  I went to open the door. A uniformed police officer stood in front of me, holding up a badge. I sorely wished I hadn't been crying moments before. “Miss Marsh?” he asked.

  “Oh, no. I'm her roommate.” I stepped back, “Geneva?”

  Geneva looked at me, confusion apparent on her face. “Uh, hi. What can I help you with, officer?”

  “I'd like to ask you a few questions.” The police officer looked at me.

  “I can make myself scarce,” I said. I left the room.

  In our house, if you go past the living-room, you can enter straight into the kitchen or take a left down the hall to the bedrooms. An immediate right at the entrance of the kitchen, however, will lead you down the stairs to the basement. Geneva has an office down there and we have another bathroom and a laundry room. The last room is large and damp and not used for much because of the constant fight with mold. Geneva owns the house and I pay rent, so I've never been much inclined to weather seal it for use.

  The reason I headed down these stairs, however, was for the vent from the empty room to the living-room. Long before Geneva had bought the house, someone had installed a pellet stove to heat it in the winter. We didn't use it, but I knew that the vent installed would allow me to hear everything being said upstairs.

  “You were acquainted with Jeremy Anders?” the officer asked. I pulled a Sterilite tub over to sit on and listened as Geneva answered.

  “Wait, he's dead?”

  “A co-worker reported him missing. Police entered the home last night. We believe he's been dead for nearly a week.”

  “Oh my God, he's dead.”

  “Miss Marsh,” he went on, “The bartender at Mike's reported you leaving with Mr. Anders Friday night. Is this true?”

  “We played X-Box and then he drove me home Saturday morning.”

  “X-Box,” he repeated. I think he thought that X-Box was a euphemism for something else. “And neighbors report someone fitting your description leaving the house Saturday night. They reported shouting and arguing.”

  “He didn't turn out to be such a prince charming,” Geneva replied. “I left. I called for a ride, and I went home.”

  I remembered Rawdon walking back to the car. No cloud of breath followed in him the cold night air, but his cheeks had been flushed. Dead men didn't blush. “Oh my God,” I whispered to myself.

  “Who came to get you?”

  “My roomie, Kendall, and this guy she's been seeing, Rawdon Hale. They came in his car.”

  “Did Mr. Anders show an
y indication that he was waiting for someone else to arrive that night? Did you see any evidence of drug use in the home?”

  “No. Listen, officer. When I left, he was alive. Rawdon went back to get my keys. He was healthy and just as much of an asshole when he opened the door as he was when he kicked me out of the house. I don't know any of his friends except that guy, Clay, that he was talking to at the bar. I just know that he wanted my company for one reason, so I left.”

  There was a pause. I couldn't tell if their voices had gotten quieter or if they had stopped talking altogether.

  “Alright, Miss Marsh. Stick around town, just in case we have any further questions.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said.

  I heard footsteps and the door opened. I ran up the stairs just in time to see Geneva closing the door after him. Tears streaked her face.

  “Gen,” I said quietly. “I think Rawdon might have killed him.”

  Geneva and I quickly agreed not to stick around and wait for sunset. I ran back into my bedroom to pack a bag. When I threw open the closet, I realized that the UV gun had been removed in the night. Rawdon had taken it.

  I shoved clothes and valuables into an old duffle bag that I had picked up at a career fair in college. It bore the stamp of some bank I had never stepped foot inside.

  “You should call the police,” Geneva said to me.

  “No,” I blurted. How did I explain to her, without telling her the truth, that he would likely slaughter the police? “I mean... he's friends with the police. He... donated money to the force so they wouldn't have to cut jobs. They won't believe me.”

  Geneva followed me outside with her purple suitcase. We loaded our bags in the trunk of her car. “We need to stop at Target,” I said.

  “Okay? What does Target have that the police don't?”

  “I think I know how we can get help. I know of someone who will believe me.” Geneva believed that Rawdon thought he was a vampire. I doubted she would trust a man who thought he was Rawdon's hunter. “He was worried that his therapist had found him here.”