The Vampire Next Door

by Natalie Vivien

  Lare looks to me, her eyes shining with pain. She draws in a deep breath, nostrils flaring. Then she regards Drew again, and her expression changes: the silver in her eyes deepens, darkens, as if with a warning.

  Drew chuckles softly, matching Lare's stare. “I seem to have struck a nerve with you, animal,” she says thoughtfully, tilting her blonde head. “I should tell you, though, that I only asked that question out of curiosity. Because, no matter what you do, you will not be able to help this woman, just as you will not be able to help these men. You see, they—and you—are about to die.”

  My heart plummets, and the man beside me begins to whimper.

  I watch Lare's shoulders rise; I can see her brow furrowed in concentration. A drop of sweat rolls over her forehead as her muscles strain.

  She's trying to get out of the ropes restraining her wrists.

  “A valiant attempt, but you can't escape,” says Drew, noticing Lare's efforts without missing a beat. “Besides, I'm just as fast and strong as you are.” She slips behind Lare's back and flicks her nails across her throat. “Let's get this over with, shall we?” And with that, she rips the tape off of Lare's face and removes the gag.

  Lare exhales heavily, breathing hard.

  Then I stare, perplexed, as Drew puts her fingers into Lare's mouth and drags something out of it.

  What. The Hell?

  It looks like...a dental mold.

  Lare flexes her jaw, exhausted, beaten. There are purple bruises around her mouth. My soul aches for her, pines for her. I just want to hold her, kiss her, one last time...

  All business now, Drew crosses the room to approach a crate, still holding the piece of silicon or plastic that she extracted from Lare's mouth in her clawed hand.

  Moving on silent feet, Lare positions herself next to me, flicking her gaze to the men in the two other chairs, her face soft with compassion, gray with sorrow. “I'm so sorry, George, Daniel,” she whispers. “I'm...so sorry.”

  She sinks down beside me, kneeling on one knee, her shoulders straining forward because of her bound wrists. “Courtney,” she tells me, the word thick with emotion, “we're going to get out of this alive. I promise you that.” Her voice, though weak, is emphatic, passionate. “I've just got to—”

  “All done!” says Drew, whirling around with a wicked smile. She stalks back toward us, making a show of hiding something behind her back. Her glassy eyes flick between Lare and me as her mouth curves into a deep, disapproving frown. “The time for sentiment has passed, I'm afraid.”

  “What are you going to do?” Lare asks heavily, rising up.

  That's when I see what, exactly, that goon used to restrain Lare's wrists: zip ties. Zip ties are impossible to struggle out of; they're too thick, too strong, too sturdy to break with bare hands.

  And yet... I watch as Lare's fingers worry at the thick plastic, slicing into it, bit by bit, with her sharp nails. Vampire strength? The plastic is slowly giving way, but Lare isn't quite free yet.

  “I'm going to do something I've longed to do for my entire life.” Drew takes her hands from behind her back and lifts them toward her mouth. She seems to be affixing something...to her teeth?

  “I'm a completionist, Lare. I don't like to do anything halfway,” Drew offers conversationally, though her words are thick, muffled, as she continues to fiddle with her mouth. “I have to make the authorities believe that a vampire kidnapped and killed these three poor, innocent humans. Before SANG came in to witness the atrocity, of course.” Drew parts her lips to bare a wicked smile...

  I pale.

  She's wearing fangs.

  “Of course, if I intend to frame you for this crime, it can't be just any vampire who commits the murders. When the police examine the bodies, they must find your saliva and your distinctive teeth marks on the victims' necks.” Drew pauses to smile toothily at each of us, in turn. “Come on, admit it. You're impressed by my attention to detail, aren't you? Creating a mold of your mouth was a stroke of brilliance.”

  Lare stares at Drew with round, silver eyes. “What will you do with me after you kill everyone here?” she asks, voice low.

  “Kill you, too, naturally.” Drew smiles disbelievingly and shakes her head, as if the answer to Lare's question were obvious. “What else could I do? You don't deserve to live.”

  “And why is that?” asks Lare gruffly, lifting her chin. She's stalling. Her fingers move back and forth, tugging gently at the zip ties. Gently, so as not to give herself away.

  I hold my breath, watching the plastic tear.

  “Because you're a monster,” Drew says simply. “And if movies have taught us anything, it's that monsters are dangerous and must be exterminated.”

  “Mm.” Lare shrugs her shoulders—to get a better grip on the zip ties. “I just need to know one thing before I die.”

  “Yes?”

  “Why do you hate vampires so much? You're a smart woman. You must have a reason for all of this hatred, all of this effort you've put into the cause. Tell me—what did we ever do to you?” Lare asks mildly, as if she's genuinely curious.

  Drew's unsettling eyes narrow. “That, beast, is none of your business.”

  “Okay. But the thing is,” says Lare, standing tall, her head tilted to one side, red hair falling over her shoulder, “there's...something about you. The first time I saw your face on TV, you seemed familiar.”

  “Shut up.”

  “And I thought to myself,” Lare continues, commanding Drew's gaze, “That woman is full of hate. And the thing that we hate the most is often to be found within ourselves.”

  Drew steps forward, inhaling sharply.

  “You're a vampire, aren't you?” Lare says simply. “You're one of us. And you hate yourself for it.”

  I gasp against my gag. What? Drew Yarrow, a vampire? No. No, it's not possible. Is it?

  Drew has yet to confirm or deny Lare's accusation. She's frozen; her eyes are clamped onto Lare's face, as if she's physically unable to look away.

  “Maybe you weren't in the country when they first gave out tattoos,” Lare speculates evenly, “and complex formulas of blood can disguise the silver in our eyes, has done so for centuries. As for your teeth... Well, you wouldn't be the first vampire to file down her fangs.

  “So the only real challenge for you would be the blood, of course. But you have your ways of acquiring it, don't you, Drew? Every vampire has her way, just like every lion knows how to find the slowest gazelle. It's animal instinct, after all.”

  Drew holds her silence for a long moment. I have the feeling that Drew Yarrow isn't used to being pinned down, called out, or at a loss for words. Finally, she draws in a deep breath, her face deathly pale. “It's true. I am that which I loathe.”

  Oh, my God.

  Did Mia know?

  Drew curls her hands into fists, moving nearer to Lare. “Do you have any idea what it's like to despise something about yourself that cannot be changed, not ever? My whole life, I have hated what I am, what you are...” Her voice breaks, and she struggles to find her composure. “It...it's irrelevant now.” She waves a hand in front of her face, as if brushing cobwebs aside. “I know what I have to do. I have made it my mission to assure that human beings learn the truth about the monsters they share this world with. When I'm through, no one will ever trust vampires again. The tide will shift... Vampires will go extinct. Save for one,” she says, arching a brow. “And no one would ever suspect the leader of SANG to be a drinker of the blood.”

  Lare blinks her mirrored eyes and shakes her head sadly. “You can't repress who you really are, Drew. Vampire, human—it doesn't matter. Your soul defines you, not your species.”

  “Ah. Perhaps you'd like those pretty words engraved on your tombstone?”

  Drew and Lare stare hard into one another's eyes.

  Then comes a soft voice: “Drew?”

  My breath hitches in my throat.

  Mia. She must have crept into the room without anyone noticing, because she
's standing only a few feet away from the rest of us, wringing her hands together agitatedly, just as she had back at her apartment.

  I don't know how long she's been listening, but if Mia heard Drew speak, then she knows that Drew is a vampire. Unless she always knew...

  Based upon her deer-in-the-headlights expression, though, I'm guessing that she didn't, and that she does now.

  Her eyes are as wide as saucers. She looks small, child-like, as she tilts her face up toward her paragon. “Drew,” she says again, sounding sad, hurt. And then, as quietly as a prayer, she begs, “Please tell me it's not true. This is just part of the plan, right? You're lying to them. Drew. Please tell me that you're not a vampire.”

  Drew draws herself up to her full height. “I told you to wait for me. Go back to the room, Mia,” she hisses through her false teeth.

  I hold my breath.

  Mia has no spine. She absorbs other people's opinions, other people's lives, as if they are her own. She believes what people tell her—until someone she admires tells her differently. She isn't a free thinker, and she doesn't want to be.

  Mia does as she's told.

  So right now, Mia should turn around and skulk back to the room with her tail between her legs. She should accept whatever lies Drew gives her, accept them without argument.

  But...she doesn't.

  “You're a vampire?” she murmurs, dazedly. She's shaking, but she doesn't back down, not even when Drew takes one menacing step toward her.

  Then, suddenly, Drew's shoulders relax, and she softens her jagged features. “You heard wrong, baby,” she tells Mia with a close-lipped smile. “I was only playing along—”

  But Mia shakes her head, talks over Drew: “I heard the whole thing. I heard what the vampire said. Is. It. True?” she demands, stomping her foot.

  Lare is still standing with her back toward me, and my heart grows wings when I see the zip ties around her wrists come loose. She keeps her hands behind her, gripping the zip ties in her palms so that they don't fall to the ground and draw attention.

  “My brother was killed by a vampire,” Mia sobs, her face pale, her lower lip trembling. “You knew that. And you... You were one of them all along.”

  Drew rolls her eyes, murmurs, “You've grown tiresome. I'll deal with you in a minute, Mia.”

  And Lare chooses that moment to surge forward.

  I've heard rumors suggesting that vampires are stronger than humans, and it makes sense, given the fact that humans are vampires' natural prey. Still, when Drew grabs Lare's shoulders as Lare crushes against her, trying to shove Drew down to the ground, I'm startled by what happens next.

  The two women lock together. And neither budges an inch.

  As the vampires wrestle, Drew snarling, Lare as silent as the grave, I feel useless, helpless.

  I need to help Lare.

  I shift my hands behind me, chafing my raw wrists against the rope, and I lean forward, pulling against the knots fastening me to the chair...

  There's no time.

  If Drew calls out for her henchmen, we're dead.

  Drew realizes this at the same moment as me. “Get out here, all of you!” she shouts toward the door at the back of the warehouse, but her voice, under strain, is only a few octaves above a whisper.

  Drew and Lare, locked in struggle, seem to be perfectly matched. Something has to tip the balance.

  I shift my panicked gaze to Mia, who's fiddling with her phone nervously, turning it over and over in her hands as she stares, owl-eyed, in my direction. Then she sighs, taps the screen of her cell, and returns her gaze to me.

  I stare back at her, nostrils flaring. She meant something to me once, I remind myself. There was goodness inside of her, a goodness that I saw, felt, wanted to hold close...

  I can't believe that goodness has left her completely.

  I won't believe that.

  Mia narrows her brown eyes, watching me pointedly. Then: “Drew,” Mia says, her voice high, whiny.

  And for a split second, Drew looks toward her, losing her concentration. With lightning-fast reflexes, she catches Lare's fists in her hands as Lare shoves against her rib cage—hard.

  “You lied to me, Drew,” Mia says angrily, brandishing her cell. “So I called the police. It's over, babe.”

  “What?” Drew gasps.

  The door at the back of the warehouse bursts open then, and a flood of SANG-jacketed men and women pour through.

  I groan inwardly.

  It's not over—not by a long shot. Because these people don't know that their fearless leader is a vampire. And it's obvious by their feral expressions that they're hellbent on aiding Drew at any cost.

  But then I hear sirens... So soon?

  The SANG crew pauses uncertainly, looking to Drew for orders.

  “I called the cops fifteen minutes ago, when I went into the back room,” Mia says quietly, flicking her gaze to me. “I realized I'd made a mistake. A big mistake. And that I didn't want Courtney to die for this. I still love her, Drew.”

  Drew screams hoarsely as the door to the warehouse is pounded down. As Lare shoves her away, sending Drew skidding on her back over the floor.

  Then Lare stands, tall, breathing hard, her silver eyes pinned to Drew as if to make certain she doesn't attack anyone else. But Drew only scrabbles to her feet, shoulders hunched. Frantic, she tries to peel off the faux fangs affixed to her teeth.

  “There she is, officers!” Mia calls out, pointing a finger in Drew's direction. “Drew Yarrow kidnapped these men and women. She lied to us all.”

  As uniformed policemen aim for Drew, guns drawn, Lare hurries behind me and, in a few quick gestures, unties the ropes restraining my wrists and feet. “It's okay now. It's okay,” she breathes into my ear. Then she sets to work on releasing the bonds of the two men beside me.

  I stretch out my arms, wincing as the blood rushes back into them. I massage my palms gingerly before pulling the tape off of my mouth and removing the gag.

  Then Lare is back, and she's pressing her hot forehead against mine. There are tears on her cheeks, tears that I feel as she kisses me, her mouth warm, soft, gentle. I hold her as tightly as I can, weaving my fingers through her hair.

  “I love you,” she whispers, over and over. “I'm so glad you're all right. Oh, God. I love you.”

  I bury my face in her shoulder and inhale her scent.

  “I love you, too, Lare.”

  Epilogue

  Sunlight filters through the gauzy curtains, falling over my face with sweet warmth. I stretch luxuriously upon the mattress, and then I open my eyes, rising on my elbows. I take in Lare's bedroom with sleepy blinks; then I glance at the clock: eleven in the morning.

  A surge of panic rises in me, but then I shake my head and sigh with relief. It's Sunday, sleep-in day. I don't have to go in to the bookstore until tomorrow. Good thing, too, because ever since the tea bar opened—offering Lare's exquisite, hand-blended teas—sales have picked up. A lot. Many of the college kids are hanging out at the shop now: to socialize, browse the shelves, study, and, of course, drink cup after cup of tea. I'm not used to so much activity at Banks' Books. But I'm definitely not complaining.

  Still, I cherish this day off... Azure manages the store for me on Sundays; soon I'll have to hire another employee, to lessen the burden on us both. After David, I'm a little reluctant to hire a stranger, but it's a good problem to have, given the fact that, only a little while ago, Banks' Books was facing bankruptcy.

  Last week, I finally gave Azure the raise she deserves.

  I sit up in bed, and Van Helsing, who was sleeping sprawled on the floor beside me, lifts his fluffy face from his paws. He rises up slowly, deliberately, and then turns his sweet Saint Bernard face toward me, licking my cheek once.

  I chuckle, ruffling the fur behind his ears. Then I slide out of bed and reach for my robe. I'm naked, and we do have neighbors, after all. I smile to myself as I tie the sash around my waist and wander down the hallway toward the
living room.

  And there's Lare, seated on the couch, watching the news—blatantly unconcerned about the aforementioned neighbors, because she's completely nude.

  “Bonjour, beautiful,” she tells me with a wide smile, holding her arms out to me. I collapse into them, kissing her deeply.

  “Is this a French thing?” I tease her, gesturing to her lack of clothing.

  She laughs, wrestling me easily into her lap. “Maybe,” she tells me with a wink. Then she nods toward the television. “Look who it is.”

  The anchor on the screen is speaking about the trial of the SANG members involved in the kidnappings, slated to begin tomorrow.

  “...after the leader of SANG—or Society for the Abolishment of Nocturnal Ghouls—was arrested three months ago in relation to the kidnappings and attempted murders of four people. Numerous SANG members have been arrested since for illegal activities, including several in local government positions in Cincinnati and on the state police force. President Garcia held a nationwide press conference last week—”

  “Oh, look, my favorite person,” says Lare, kissing my cheek as I appear on screen.

  “It's so weird, seeing yourself on television,” I grimace.

  They've played this news clip hundreds of times since it first aired. President Garcia invited Lare and me to the press conference herself, and who turns down the President?

  “I didn't even say much.” I roll my eyes as my TV twin begins to speak. “They just love showing me before they show you, to make it all titillating for the viewers, who know we're together.”

  “Small steps,” says Lare with a wink.

  The newscaster is now recounting Lare's stirring speech, and Lare's face fills the screen now, looking luminous...

  I remember that day. I remember it vividly.

  “...the future of vampire/human relations is poised to change, and change for the better,” Lare says on the news report. “My colleagues and I are close to discovering a synthetic blood substitute that will eliminate vampires' need to drink animal or human blood entirely.”