The Cure

by Loren Schechter

“Let’s hope not. But you shouldn’t have come back. We told you not to.”

  “I have to, for Hector. He sacrificed himself for me. What kind of person would I be to let him die without trying to free him?”

  Finkelstein glanced at her. “I like your spirit darling. But if you and your sweetie get turned, you’ll have countless deaths on your conscience.”

  “He’s not my sweetie. He and Soo are my best friends, that’s all. How is he? Have you seen him?”

  “No. Dr. Baneful keeps him locked up in an isolation cell. Look darling, I can’t interfere with another vampire’s prey, but I don’t want you to become another blood-bucket for Dr. Baneful. Let me drop you off at the bus station.”

  “Thank you, but I have to free Hector. Or at least try.”

  “Because you couldn’t save Conrad? You blame yourself?”

  She pressed her fist against her mouth and tried to swallow.

  Finkelstein glanced over at her. “It wasn’t your fault. You know that.”

  When she felt she could control herself, she dropped her hand to her lap. “I tried to stop him. I just wasn’t willing to become his vampire wife. I’m too young to become anyone’s wife. But I did love him in some ways. I certainly didn’t want him to kill himself.” She shook her head. “His suicide has nothing to do with my coming back to get Hector.”

  “Really?” Finkelstein raised an eyebrow. “And how will you get Hector out of a locked cell and away from Dr. Baneful?”

  “I was hoping you and Edna LittleHawk will help me, like you did before.”

  “Help you? You know, for a nice girl, you make a lot of trouble. Edna was ready to kill you last time. As for me – ” Finkelstein bared his fangs. “ — I will only say you’re very lucky I’m your guidance counselor.” He stopped the car at a red light and retracted his fangs. “Open the glove compartment and take out the spray bottle. We have to make you stink like a vampire.”

  As she complied, Kathy remembered how Conrad had anointed her with a terrible scent so she could pass as a vampire while in a Halloween costume. She blinked back tears.

  “This is to smuggle me back into school?” she asked. The plastic bottle seemed more suited to weed killer than cologne, but vampire guilt about killing and worries about decay caused them to use perfumes and deodorants excessively, except when they went hunting or needed to pass unnoticed in public.

  “Smuggle, shmuggle. I want to get you to school alive.” Finkelstein stomped on the accelerator and Kathy was jerked backward. “If our next passenger catches the scent of a warmblood, she’d destroy both the limo and me to get at your neck. Spray yourself good from head to toe, then spray me. And once we stop for her, you sit here and don’t say a word.”

  “Who is she?” Kathy sprayed a sample of cologne on the back of her hand and sniffed. Disgusting!

  “A natural born killer. Most faculty members that know her, fear her. Even hardened vampires like John Harrow and Dr. Baneful. So when she’s in the back, don’t say a word, don’t even sigh. And however you have to restrain yourself, don’t fart. Her nose is like an NSA data collector.”

  “Does Miss Killer-Nose have a name?”

  “Her name is Barbara Rawlinger Baneful, but she prefers to be called ‘Bunny.’ Prefers it enough that she kills people who persist in calling her Barbara or Miss Baneful.”

  “Dr. Baneful’s wife?”

  “His sister. Half-sister, actually. But he hates her. She turned him and then ran off. Not long after that, he bled his parents to death. As a guidance counselor, I can say with confidence that it was a dysfunctional family.”

  “If she hates her name so much, why doesn’t she change it?”

  “Because she’d have one less thing to hate.”

  Kathy shook her head. “You vampires are really weird. Why is she coming to the school?”

  “Who knows? All I know is that she phoned Edna, and then Edna called an emergency meeting of the Administrative Council. Spray yourself, darling.”

  She swept her hair aside and misted her neck. Her skin felt slimy; the odor was repulsive. “This cologne is terrible. It’s not what I remember you wearing.”

  “‘Midnight in Bucharest’ is too romantic to keep Bunny Baneful away from you.”

  “What’s this one?”

  “‘Forbidden Fruit.’”

  “Rotten, more like it.” She looked up as the limo made a sharp left turn into a driveway beneath golden arches.

  “We’re stopping here?” she asked. “We don’t have to. I’m not hungry.”

  “Darling, not everything is for you.” Finkelstein sighed. “I get so tired of saying that to students.” Avoiding the drive-through lane, he eased the limo past the cars parked in front of the restaurant and chose a space in the rear, away from the two cars that were already there. He switched off the headlights but left the engine and heater running. “Maybe I should paint ‘not everything is for you’ on the door of the guidance office.” He looked over at her. “You think that would help?”

  “Not really. Why are we here?”

  “For Bunny.”

  “She eats burgers?”

  Finkelstein shrugged. “All I can tell you, with the name Bunny Baneful, kosher she’s not. No blood drinker can be.”

  “Is she inside?”

  “I was just told to wait for her here. Maybe she’s coming from somewhere, maybe she’s inside picking out her own Happy Meal. With Bunny, you never know.”

  3

  The Service

  Bruised and aching, Hector sat bound and gagged on a platform in the sub-basement of the Sawtooth Wilderness Academy. His paper gown had ripped open at the chest from his struggle, and sweat glued the rest of it to his skin. The geothermal heat inside the mountain was oppressive, as were the rough stone walls of the excavated chamber and the odor of sandalwood coming from a large incense burner on the altar beside him. Shaped like a gloating demon, the burner was bracketed by flaming black candles in gold candlesticks, and flowerpots overflowing with red and yellow nasturtiums. Hector’s mouth quivered as he remembered the taste of the flowers Dr. Baneful had made him swallow to spice up his blood.

  He didn’t want to die, but he hoped his heart would give out before they strung him up. It hadn’t stopped racing since three of his former classmates decked out in red robes had hung a bound woman upside down from a ceiling hook above the altar. The flickering light from the candles cast a nightmarish glow upon the woman’s agonized face as she twisted about on the rope tied to her feet.

  Hector couldn’t bear looking at her or at the assembly of robed vampires, so he closed his eyes and visualized his sisters teaching little Berto how to dance. Have they gotten along okay without me? Do they think I didn’t come home on purpose? The ache in his chest gave way to the prick of a dagger against his cheek. With a start, he opened his eyes.

  “Pay attention, salsa-boy,” said his female minder. He’d recognized his calculus classmate Cynthia Sniddle long before she spoke. He’d glimpsed tufts of orange hair and the silver nose ring beneath her cowl. Cynthia had never been shy in expressing her longing for his blood, but now she’d have to share it with at least twenty congregants. He pictured himself upside down, blood draining slowly from his six-foot-two body. Only his desire not to call attention to himself kept him from throwing up.

  “We will continue with the Ceremony of Salvation,” said Dr. Baneful from the podium. As High Priest of the Sawtooth Satanic Legion, he wore a black robe with the cowl folded back far enough to display a grinning death’s head mask. Baneful’s resonant voice came through the mask clearly. “My reading today is from chapter two of the ‘Book of Baneful.’

  “’And chaos shall come, and the world shall be purged of the unfaithful. They shall be brought forth on the Day of Judgment to give their souls to Satan, their blood to his flock and their children to the teachers of the True Way. Those who accept Satan’s rule and dominion shall be forever blessed with fangs and freedom. Those who refuse Him shall be drai
ned of their blood and burned, or ground into dust along with their earthly possessions.”

  Freaking weirdo, thought Hector. Where’s God?

  “Make it so,” the Legionnaires roared.

  “And so it shall come to pass,” said Baneful. His death’s head mask turned toward Hector. “Today, I have invited my friend Hector Campos to witness our service.”

  Friend! Hector glared at his tormentor. The sicko’s been beating and bleeding me and putting it on video! God knows where he shows it.

  Dr. Baneful approached and towered above him. Hector winced at the light touch on his shoulder as his torturer spoke to the congregation.

  “I want Hector to see what happens if he fails to surrender not only body and blood, but his obedience and soul to our cause. Only from helplessness can he gather the pitiless strength to be a faithful servant of Satan. I ask you, fellow servants, shall we bleed and mold this warmblood until he is willing to embrace the True Way of our Legion?”

  “Yes! Bleed him! Make him ready!” the congregants shouted.

  Hector felt his throat close up. He fought to swallow around his gag, but a dark tide of helplessness washed away his remaining strength and resolve. His body went limp against the ropes that bound him.

  “Let him witness the sacrifice of one who resists.” Dr. Baneful stepped over to the woman dangling from the hook and removed her gag. “Do you see the error of your ways? Do you repent?” he demanded.

  “Oh, yes, oh yes,” she cried.

  Hector blinked back tears as the woman pleaded for release and promised to give up her audit of the Sawtooth Wilderness Academy’s tax filings. She said she’d resign from the IRS, wished all vampires peace and good will, and prayed for a place for herself in Heaven.

  Dr. Baneful reached up and pressed a finger to the woman’s lips to silence her. “I’m sorry, Agent Meckler,” he said through his mask, “there’s no place in Heaven for IRS agents.” He gave her a playful tap on the nose and turned away. “Gag her!” he ordered, and two of his lackeys jumped to the task, suppressing the woman’s screams. Then the good doctor of neurology blessed her and took the ceremonial First Bite into her neck, expertly gouging out a ragged clump of skin and muscle while tearing open her jugular vein. Spitting out her flesh, he stepped away so that two of his acolytes could position golden basins beneath the woman to catch her blood.

  Sick and dizzy, Hector looked away from the lifeless woman. He imagined his own corpse in her place and felt weak all over.

  “I call upon newvee Landon Borchstow to come to the dais for the First Suck,” said Dr. Baneful.

  A small robed figure climbed the steps to the platform and pushed back his hood. The boy’s milky white skin made the strawberry birthmark on his cheek more obvious. He offered the audience a tentative smile.

  “Landon came to our school one month ago,” said Baneful. “Like most of you, Landon hated himself and his life in the warmblood world. He saw no life purpose and no way out other than suicide. This morning, he pledged his body and soul to Satan in the Ring of Fire. Tonight, we welcome him into the fellowship of the Legion, where his superiority over warmbloods is celebrated. Although he will look fourteen forever, we will mold him into a true warrior. Like you who stand before me, he may feel every sensation and emotion, but he will never get sick and never die.”

  Baneful turned to the newvee. “Landon, those who love Satan never have to hate themselves. There are so many warmbloods to bleed, so much in their world to destroy. And we never have to say we’re sorry.” He handed the boy a doublewide straw. “The Honor tonight is yours.”

  The two acolytes held out the golden basins to Landon. “Suck for Satan, my brother,” they said as he took a sip from each basin.

  The “suck for Satan” chant was taken up by others as the acolytes raised the blood basins on high and descended into the congregation. The vampires lined up to sip sacrificial blood. Those waiting chanted and pumped their fists in the air, but Hector also heard murmurings of “That’s enough” and “Leave some for the rest of us.”

  Heads turned as a young vampire in jeans and a motorcycle jacket raced into the chamber, broke through the queue waiting for sacrificial blood and leaped onto the platform. Baneful frowned and drew the intruder behind the altar, where he took off his mask for a whispered exchange. Baneful’s dark eyes widened at whatever news he’d received.

  “She’s coming? When?” he demanded.

  The whispered answer caused Baneful’s head to jerk, his sharp features to contract. Hector heard the mask crack in the vampire’s closed hand. Baneful looked down at the mask. “Inevitable it would happen,” he said as if to himself. His black hair flopped about as he shook his head from side to side.

  Hector strained against the ropes tying him to his chair. Dr. Sicko’s worried? Good!

  But Baneful seemed to get a grip on whatever was troubling him. He smiled, stepped forward on the platform and raised his hands.

  “My dear servants of Satan – ” he began.

  The room quieted, but those sipping blood did not pause.

  “ — I must interrupt our service for a special announcement. Later tonight, we’ll be joined by another visitor. Some faculty members here may remember my half-sister, Bunny. After many years away, Satan’s daughter is returning to our school.”

  Several vampires muttered curses; a few turned to whisper to the unenlightened.

  Dr. Baneful held up his hand to command silence. “No, no. Satan be thanked for whatever He provides. I expect each and every one of you to assist me in giving her an appropriate welcome. Meanwhile, finish your drinks and burn that body.” He stepped over and looked down at Hector. “I’m afraid, dear boy, that I’ll have to put you on hold.”

  4

  The Getaway

  Bunny stood across the street from the rear parking lot of a McDonald’s restaurant. From behind a tree, she saw the school’s limo roll in, park close to the exit and turn off its headlights.

  Why didn’t those idiots paint over the name? she wondered. A limo was bound to draw attention, but that was okay as long as the curious eyes didn’t belong to federal agents. As best she could tell, she’d not been followed as she hitchhiked from Boston to Boise, but the FBI was still investigating the kidnapping of the Shady Valley gymnastic team in the Idaho wilderness. The comings and goings of a limo marked Sawtooth Wilderness Academy would’ve been noted.

  Bunny shook her head. Vampire arrogance, she thought. Anyone given power or superior physical abilities eventually became arrogant. She’d seen that in a few of the soldiers who made it through Ranger school with her and many of the vampires she’d encountered since. Not that she was immune, just more cautious, aware that arrogance led to mistakes.

  A Ford Taurus pulled into the lot and turned around to park nose out from the building. No one got out of the car.

  Bunny waited. Cops? she wondered. They might stop her before she made it to the limo, or just follow it back to the school. Could be a lovers’ quarrel or a drug deal going down in the Taurus. Still, safer to assume they’re undercover cops or federal agents.

  Shrouded by her hoody, Bunny strode up the street, then crossed over to the front parking lot of the restaurant. She flexed her fingers to hide her nails, weapons sharp enough to puncture a vein and hard enough to cut through a windpipe. She wandered among the cars, looking for a driver who still sat behind the wheel. Seeing none, she chose a white van marked Ed’s Electrical Supply, put her back to the restaurant and lit up a cigarette to justify loitering outside. The odor of burning tobacco made her gag. She dropped the cigarette, stepped on it, then put an unlit one between her lips. A mother walking out of the restaurant with three young children gave her a worried look and herded the kids away. A couple of college-age boys parked their battered Chevy and swaggered to the entrance. Minutes later, a stocky middle-aged man dressed in a sweatshirt and jeans exited the restaurant and approached the van. When he had the keys in his hand, she came up behind him.
/>   “Excuse me,” she said.

  The man half-turned his head toward the palm strike that smashed his jaw. Stunned, he crashed back against his van. Her next blow drove the air out of him and dropped him to the ground. Regretting that she didn’t have time for a quick bite, Bunny scooped up his keys and pulled his body out of the way. She drove the van around to the rear of the restaurant and stopped it directly in front of the unmarked cop car. Before the occupants of the Taurus had time to react, she was out of the van and at the rear door of the idling limo.

  “Stop! FBI!” a woman shouted from outside the Taurus.

  Bunny glanced back. The shrill voice and the expression on the woman’s face as she raised her handgun was that of a nervous rookie. Saluting the agent with a middle finger, Bunny opened the car door and jumped in. The privacy panel was closed. She grimaced at the odor of rotten fruit.

  “Floor it!” She slammed the door shut. With a squeal of tires, the limo surged forward. Bunny buckled herself in. F.B.I.? Chasing me? Looking for the school? Doesn’t matter. Not when they’re sending Girl Scouts.

  5

  Back to School

  A large hooded figure jumped from the white van and raced toward the limo.

  “Is that her?” asked Kathy.

  Finkelstein nodded. “No matter what happens, don’t make a sound. I’ll keep your door locked and the privacy window closed so she can’t see you.”

  The rear door behind Finkelstein jerked open. A body thumped into a seat and the door slammed shut.

  “Floor it!” the new passenger commanded over the intercom. But Finkelstein already had the headlights on and the car in motion. Kathy clutched her seatbelt.

  “Shalom, Bunny. Welcome back,” said the guidance counselor.

  “May your blood clot and your flesh rot, you little weasel. You were followed. Why didn’t you paint out the school’s name?”

  Kathy cast an anxious glance at the privacy panel. No, total black. She remembered she couldn’t see forward when she’d been seated in back. All communication had been over the intercom.