by Clark Hays
“Julius and his army won’t let it end that easy,” Tucker said. “There’s bound to be a scrap of some sort.”
“We’ll deal with that. The important part is my knowing we’ll be together. That’s all that matters to me.”
“It does have a certain simple beauty to it. Maybe Lazarus can help us figure out how to do it all.”
Lizzie smiled. “At least, we have some goals.”
“We’ll make staying alive number one. No, we’ll make staying in love number one. How’s that sound?”
“Good, really good. But let’s move making love to number one. Just for now?” She nuzzled her face into his neck and Tucker kissed her. Breathless, he unbuttoned her shirt, letting the moonlight shine on her pale skin, her breasts glowing in the soft light. Taking his hands, she led him back down the hill toward the barn, never once taking her eyes from his. “Let’s make something good happen here,” she whispered.
Inside, they made love in the loft, clothes spread over the hay and smelling the sweet smell of summer preserved in the bales. Afterward, he heard her sigh, and then, much to his drained surprise, heard something else.
Another voice, other voices. Distant and mumbled. He will not be easily vanquished. Protect yourself. Go to your childhood. The dark woman will aid you.
Tucker bolted upright. “What? What did you say?”
“Nothing, I said nothing, it was the voices again.” Lizzie pulled her clothes on quickly. “We’ve got to find Sully and go to Lazarus.” They drove back to Dad’s place, the truck rattling in the deep ruts.
“Time to get moving,” Tucker yelled as they entered. “Y’all finished horsing around with your …,” The words died in his throat.
Dad and Sully were bound to chairs, both pale and marked with blood-tinted wounds on their throats. Sully was still as a statue, eyes closed and breathing shallowly. Dad was conscious, eyes burning mad but weakened.
Elita sprawled in the recliner, the television remote in one hand and a beer in the other, Dad’s gray Stetson perched on her head. She was wearing a skimpy black satin cocktail dress and red cowboy boots. She laughed a throaty laugh when she saw their faces. Tucker muttered an oath and reached for his gun, but Lizzie stayed his hand. Her back was rigid and fury blazed in her eyes.
Elita showed no sign of concern, just kept flipping through the television stations and sipping her beer. “The reception out here is awful,” she said.
Lizzie walked to Dad, leaned down and untied him. He stood up, his old body tense and ready to lunge, but Lizzie stopped him too.
“Go stand by Tucker,” she said quietly, with a dark strength that left no room for argument. Lizzie moved to Sully next, knelt down beside him and whispered in his ear as she untied his hands.
His eyes fluttered open, and he mustered a tiny smile.
“What happened, Sully?” she asked tenderly.
He coughed weakly and could hardly get the words out, but finally managed to whisper a response, all the while looking at Elita, his eyes burning with a mixture of rage and terror. “She fed on me.”
Those words appeared to be Elita’s cue. She jumped up from the recliner, pushed the hat back on her head and stood defiantly. “Lizzie dearest, I don’t suppose you know how to kill a vampire. While it’s rather challenging for Adamites,” she said, grinning maliciously at Tucker, “it’s quite elementary for a vampire. Simply take their blood. All of it. Generously, I have refrained from killing Sully. I stopped in time. He’s only stunned. He’ll be back to himself by tomorrow night. That is,” she purred, “if I don’t feed on him again before he regains his strength.”
She smiled demurely, looking at her nails.
Surprisingly and oddly, Lizzie was calm. No rage, no angry words. It was as if she had the power of time and gravity wrapped around her little finger.
She turned. “Tucker, please help Sully to his coffin. He needs to rest.” He hesitated, unsure if he should leave her alone, but decided to get the others to safety.
Between Dad and Tucker, they carried Sully toward the basement door and the coffin waiting below.
“It’s gonna be the catfight of the century,” Tucker said, looking over his shoulder one more time as they negotiated through the doorway.
FORTY-SIX
It was clear to Lizzie that Elita could have easily killed Dad and Sully. That they still lived meant the true purpose of her visit to LonePine had yet to be revealed.
“I could have killed them both,” Elita said, as if reading her thoughts.
Lizzie nodded. “But you didn’t.”
Elita began pacing, slowly, seductively, the black satin of her tiny dress clinging softly to her.
Lizzie broke the silence. “Don’t drag this out. Tell me why you are here.”
“Julius sent me to kill Sully.”
“But you didn’t. Though a killing may still occur.”
Elita turned abruptly to face Lizzie, the taunts and teasing half-formed on the tip of her tongue quickly dying. There was a deep calm on Lizzie’s face and Elita felt a pang of sudden, profound fear. She shook it off easily.
“Perhaps I miscalculated in telling you how to kill a vampire,” she said.
“I’m beginning to understand a lot of things, to even accept certain aspects of this role thrust upon me. But understand this, Tucker is sacred, as is anything dear to him. I may have no choice in entering this little fantasy world, but Tucker will not become a victim, no matter who I have to destroy.”
She moved suddenly close to Elita, whose startled eyes betrayed her outward composure. Elita sensed the power in Lizzie, the same power that flashed to the surface the night of the turning, and she knew any advantage she had was rapidly disintegrating.
“Do you understand why all this has happened?” Elita asked.
“I understand enough, and the remainder Lazarus can tell me, not you.”
“There are things Lazarus can’t tell you, things only I know, as Julius’ long-time companion.”
“Lover?”
“Of course.”
“Are you in love with him?”
“In the way that you are in love with that cowboy?”
Lizzie nodded in response.
“No. I am a vampire. Love is more complex for us.”
“Love is always simple,” Lizzie said. “I assume ours is different only by duration.”
“I thought I found the perfect companion.”
“Are your ideals changing?”
“Maybe,” Elita said.
“What good would it do killing Sully?”
“It would send a message to Lazarus that Julius can sense you, and that you cannot escape him. He knows where you are all the time.”
Lizzie’s heart stuttered at this news. The voices were right. She must get to Lazarus quickly. “Why have you disobeyed Julius?”
She shrugged and tossed the cowboy hat onto the table. “I haven’t disobeyed him. Not yet anyway.”
Lizzie took the hat and carefully turned it crown down, something she’d seen Tucker do a hundred times. “And yet, here we are talking. I sense you may be open to a different path.”
“Perhaps I am no longer convinced Julius will emerge victorious in this war,” Elita said.
“War?” asked Lizzie.
“Oh, my little queen, you know not what events you have set into motion,” Elita said.
Tucker walked back in, surprised to see them calmly talking. “Honey, is everything okay?”
Lizzie nodded. “Let’s get started for New Mexico. I think your dad should come with us. He’s not safe here anymore. And Elita will be joining us.”
Elita smiled lazily at Tucker.
“Um, Lizzie,” he said. “Could I see you outside for a minute?” On the porch, Tucker stared at Lizzie dumbfounded. “What are you thinking, asking that witch to come with us?”
“She has a tremendous amount of knowledge about Julius and how he operates. The voices said to trust the dark woman. Who else could that be? And d
espite it all, I’m starting to like her.”
“Maybe you should pick someone who’s a little less dangerous for your girlfriend. Like Medusa. Or Lizzie Borden. Or I could introduce you to a whole handful of cowgirls right here in LonePine.”
“I bet you could. But somehow, I’m guessing they would not be quite the type of friend I need at this point. Anyway, she was only a threat as long as she was with Julius. She’s disobeyed him and can’t return to him. She has no place to go. Her only hope is to be accepted by me and Lazarus.”
“Honey, she tried to kill Dad and Sully.”
“If Elita wanted them dead, they would be dead. She just wanted to prove a point.”
“And that point would be?” Tucker asked.
“That she could control her desire to kill, and that she could go against Julius’ wishes.”
Tucker sighed, knowing he had already lost. “How do you know it ain’t all a set up? Maybe Julius is just planting her inside so that she can spy on us?”
“I suppose that’s possible,” Lizzie said.
“It’s an awfully big risk. She’s dangerous.”
“Why are you fighting this so hard? Is there anything you need to tell me about Elita?”
Tucker stammered for an answer as Elita joined them on the porch.
“I tried to seduce him, but he remained true to you. He’s the only Adamite male that has ever refused me.”
“Really?” asked Tucker, chest swelling with pride. “The only one?”
Lizzie shook her head and rolled her eyes. He looked like a rooster.
“Thank you, Lizzie,” Elita said.
“For what?”
“I wasn’t sure how this evening would turn out.”
“It could have been a lot worse,” Lizzie said.
“More than you know,” Elita said. “Even if I had vanquished you, killing Elizabeth Vaughan before the power descends would make me a pariah in our world, accepted by none. I will help you now. You must believe me.” Her last words were directed at Tucker.
“Don’t make me regret this,” Lizzie said. She turned to Tucker and took his hand in hers. “Let’s get moving. I’d like to be in New Mexico as soon as possible.”
“Come on, Rex, load up,” Tucker yelled, walking toward the Land Rover. “Hey Dad, remember that vacation I always promised? Hope you got lots of ammo.”
Part Three:
Redemption
FORTY-SEVEN
“Man, Lenny would love this place,” Tucker said.
The vampire at the gate motioned them inside while speaking into a wireless transmitter jutting off his ear. Laser-guided machine guns swiveled noiselessly to track the car as they passed and a series of tire-shredders popped up like teeth from the pavement behind them.
In the empty desert surrounding the compound, lit by immense arc lights, men and vampires labored to carefully bury land mines in the sand.
Lizzie held Tucker’s hand tightly as they were led inside. Elita, Sully and Dad followed close behind. Rex slunk in last, nervous from all the undeath around him, but when another dog barked from somewhere nearby, he perked up.
Inside the main house, the architecture and interior design reflected the austere tradition of the Southwest. Underneath this facade was every imaginable necessity and more than a few luxuries. Lizzie paused, held tighter to Tucker’s arm, and marveled at how the furnishings, plants, fireplaces and bookshelves combined to form a perfect whole. There was even a computer monitor built directly into the adobe in the main room, an input jack for the keyboard barely noticeable below it. There were no wires visible, no phone cords, no extraneous items. An absolute marvel of interior design, and, she realized slowly, rich with half-forgotten memories.
Carlos, entering from the hallway and, sensing the revelation within her, smiled. Her eyes lit up as she remembered him. “How long has it been, Carlos?” she asked, overcome with emotion.
He sighed happily, and took her in his arms for a hug. “Too long, my little angel. Too long.” He held her back to study her. “You are so beautiful now, so grown up. I remember when you were just three, and so serious …” His voice trailed off and he took Tucker’s hand and shook it fiercely. “You must be Tucker. It’s an honor. We owe you a great deal for saving Lizzie’s life. We will be forever in your debt, no matter how this turns out.”
“Is it that bad?” Lizzie asked.
“It’s very bad,” Carlos said. “But let’s not talk of that now. Come and see your room.” Before leaving, he turned to the others in their group.
“Please wait here for just a moment. Someone will see to your needs shortly.”
Carlos escorted Tucker and Lizzie to a room at the end of the hallway. It was decorated with pink curtains, ruffles and stuffed animals — more a nursery than room. It hadn’t changed in twenty-seven years. Strings of red and black licorice, her favorite candy, were on the pillow and a framed photograph of her when she was two, with her mother and a man she presumed was Lazarus, rested on the nightstand.
Tucker picked it up and studied the little girl, all blue eyes and curls and sadness, and saw who she would become reflected there. “You were a cute little bloodsucker,” he said.
“I realize you are no longer a child,” Carlos said, “but being your nanny all those years ago, I couldn’t part with the memories. I hoped having them around would make you feel a little bit at home.”
“Thank you,” Lizzie said. “I do feel at home.”
Tucker sat on the bed, exhausted from the drive, and Rex hopped up beside him to chew on a licorice whip. Lizzie wandered through the room, touching pieces of her childhood, remembering her mother.
“Your father and Mr. Sully will room together in another wing of the house. Elita will sleep down below, so that we may more easily gauge her allegiance. If you need anything, there is an intercom on the wall here.” He pointed at a slightly raised pattern in the tile work trim. “There will be someone here instantly. Now, I must take my leave. There is still much to attend to.” He paused at the door and nodded first at Tucker and then addressed Lizzie directly. “Welcome home.”
Oddly, she felt at home in a way she had never before experienced. There was a dimly remembered connection to the house, to the land, to the crisp air and even to the Southwestern landscape, to the dry certainty hanging from the juniper branches, to the light that dripped from the stars. The sensation of belonging increased with each passing moment. She wanted to revel in it, relax and languish inside the protective fortress, inside the love she felt for Tucker, inside the walls of protection from Julius that Lazarus was providing.
Time passed quickly there, but in three days and as many nights, Lazarus still had not sent for her. He saw to their every comfort, made sure that they wanted for nothing, but he had yet to appear. Tucker, in his usual fashion, wanted to go find him. Knock on a few doors, step on some toes; but Lizzie felt there was a protocol to follow, one she understood on a deep, instinctive level. He must come to her, not because she was queen, but because he was Master. She had no right to seek him if he chose not to be found.
The only good thing to come of it, as far as Tucker could see, was Rex found a girlfriend, a Russian wolfhound, a Borzoi, named Alexandra. She was Lazarus’ dog, a beautiful combination of style and grace that seemed out of place in this wasteland of rock and cactus. But she possessed a sweet temper and kind disposition. What she saw in a no-good old cow dog like Rex escaped Tucker entirely, but Lizzie told him she understood.
In hope of gaining some small advantage before push came to shove, Tucker tried his best to learn the terrain. In those three days, he familiarized himself with every crag, column, twisted scrub pine and cactus within a ten-mile radius.
The most noticeable natural feature was a steep canyon with sheer walls, not far from the compound. Near the head of the canyon, where it split out of the side of a bald mountain, there were Indian ruins of a sort unfamiliar to him. Below the ruins and running the length of the canyon was a little spring
that disappeared, forced back underground by the desert heat, near the mouth of the canyon. They ended up there often and while the dogs panted and splashed in the water, Tucker explored the ruins.
There was an eerie silence surrounding them, but it suited him. After carefully climbing a broken, weathered ladder, he sat among the shadows looking at the shards of pottery mixed in with the dust and gravel. Studying the lines etched into the clay, he found them curious and unlike others he had seen, less symmetrical, the pattern quietly unnerving. The walls were smooth and cool, and the curious pattern was repeated more intricately there.
The dust was thick over the walls and he swiped it off, revealing a series of painted figures. These, too, were unlike other Indian paintings he had seen. What differed most was their faces. The artists had taken great pains to illustrate a sense of motion and expression. The motion was mostly that of running; retreating, actually. And the expressions on most of the figures were that of horror. There were exceptions. A small cluster of figures was leaning over a prone woman, and they appeared to be eating her.
Tucker leaned back on his heels and thought hard about the significance of this discovery. The vampires were here before the Indians left. One of them might well be Lazarus. Seeing this record in stone drove the point home to Tucker that all the recent past events were more than just talk. Here it was, old as the hills — older, even, than the discovery of the New World.
A cold shiver trembled through him. He stood up and regarded the sun, dipping close to the purple-tinged mountains across the way. Sundown, now, was when his life really began. He clambered down to the dogs and they began walking back.
Halfway down the canyon, Rex spooked a gangly jackrabbit, all ears and back legs. It bolted down the streambed, Rex hot on its tail, but losing fast. Alexandra took the opportunity to show her new boyfriend what sets wolfhounds apart from other breeds. She sat for a moment like she was bored, giving the rabbit and Rex a sporting chance. When they were almost out of sight, she stood and licked delicately at her forefoot, and then disappeared like Superman after Lois Lane.
