by Bob McGee
“Try not to screw up,” she teased as she walked back through the line of booths, an edge of pleasure in her voice, as if some part of her hoped he would. Then he saw her leave through the office door, but it didn’t make its usual clatter when it shut behind her.
Derek remained still, a concoction of feelings writhing through him. He was in awe of her, her perfectly shaped body and Helen of Troy face, her sometimes childish tone of voice and body language, but somehow, at the same time, she gave out this force field of strength and independence that no other woman could match. Derek had never met anyone like her before, but then he’d never met a vampire before.
Blinking out of his reverie, Derek paced to the window and looked down into the street below. It was illuminated by streetlamps dotted twenty yards apart, but totally devoid of people. Derek’s attention was caught by the movement of some seagulls, picking their way into a black bin liner that had been carelessly thrown into an open skip. He let out a drawn out sigh and returned to his desk to switch off his computer.
On the short drive home he couldn’t turn off his mind. The vampire’s words kept turning over and over in his mind, tumbling around like bricks. Before he was home his head was searing with pain, the kind of headache brought on by stress.
A few minutes after returning home Derek gulped down paracetamol and went about making a grilled cheese sandwich when there was a knock at the door. Two uniformed police officers stood outside. Derek opened with caution.
“Derek Rodrigo?” the taller of the two uniforms asked.
“Yes?” Derek responded simply.
“I am Officer Paolo and this is Officer Romsey. We’ve traced a call to your cell phone and hoped we could ask you a few questions. May we come inside?” The taller of the two spoke again, clearly he was more used to these house calls than Romsey, who stood shyly, frequently glancing down at his feet.
“Of course.” Derek showed them through to the living space and sat down opposite them.
“If our assumptions are correct, you meant to make an anonymous call to the police a couple of Saturdays ago by blocking your number and leaving out a name, is that correct?” Paolo questioned.
“Yes,” Derek responded, not wanting to say any more than necessary.
“Well unfortunately for you, whatever reason you may have had for making it anonymous, the police can trace any cell phone. Can we ask for your version of the entire night’s events? And don’t leave anything out.”
“I was enjoying a drink at the pub my girlfriend works at,” Derek began, cogs whirring in his brain as he tried to find the most convincing lie to tell.
“I’d heard about a house party down in this area of the suburbs I’d never been to before and must have gotten lost because I never found it, but that’s when I stumbled upon that house. I’d heard a crashing noise and gone to investigate.” Even as the words escaped his lips, Derek realised how dumb he sounded. A drunk getting lost on the way to a party, really?
“I left the house exactly as I found it so what I found is the same as what you found,” Derek explained.
“So why make the call anonymously?” Romsey finally perked up.
“I guess because after I’d entered the house, I realised how stupid that was.” Derek left the question hang there half answered. In truth, he didn’t really know himself why he’d done it. He’d just wanted to get out of there and have nothing to do with it.
“I was scared I suppose,” he admitted.
The two officers looked at each other, exchanging words with their glances.
“I think that’s all for now,” Paolo concluded. “We’ll be in touch.”
With that, they showed themselves out and left Derek to his burnt grilled cheese sandwich. Fuck.
Days passed and no more news or questions came from the police. No contact had come from Emily either. Derek took out his cell, still no new messages. Perhaps she was playing hard to get, or perhaps she was genuinely freaked out by what Derek had told her. He scrolled through his contacts looking for her number and dialled. It rang eight times and cut to voicemail. Emily’s sweet singsong voice told him to leave a message but he hung up. What was there to say via voicemail?
A couple more days passed by with still nothing. Emily hadn’t tried to ring him back.
Concerned, and knowing Emily usually worked Fridays, Derek made his way to The Bar. Pushing open the sturdy wooden door, he found it surprisingly empty. Scanning the room robotically, Derek eyed the blond. This time she was fashioning an emerald green dress very similar to the red, except this one had a lace fringing over the bust and was shorter than the last. She was resting on a spindly-legged chair in the corner with the same group of friends. Examining the women, however, Derek noticed how they had become all equally radiant. The blond no longer stood out as the captivating one. It was as if they had all been through some kind of miraculous transformation. They were only shadows of their former selves. They all sipped their drinks elegantly, stirring them with a straw in the same circular motion, giving out a new aura of flawlessness. A mixture of blond, brunette and red head, some with curls and some with waves, a blend of grass green eyes and ocean blue, they demanded attention. Customers’ heads turned in their direction, the barman could hardly keep his eyes away.
Moving swiftly to the edge of the bar, out of sight of the women, Derek hoped he would go unnoticed. Reluctantly, the barman approached him, peeling his gaze away from the table.
“What can I get you?” he asked.
Now that he was face to face with the barman, Derek noticed how young the guy was. His greasy skin gave him the appearance of someone barely out of puberty and his dark hair fell in greasy waves pushed back out of his face.
“Actually, I was wondering if Emily was working tonight. She usually works on a Friday,” Derek said, hoping to pin back the concern in his voice.
“Actually, she hasn’t shown up for work in a couple of days now. The manager can’t get hold of her. You’re Derek, right?” he questioned, his eyebrow arched slightly.
“Yeah, that’s me,” Derek replied with a half-hearted smile.
“Well we don’t really know what’s going on with her, but if she doesn’t turn up tomorrow she’s losing her job.” He grabbed a cloth and gave the bar a wipe down.
Derek thanked him and eagerly left, not daring to risk even a fleeting look back at the women in the corner.
The news that Emily hadn’t turned up to work made Derek’s hairs prick up on his forearms. What was she doing?
Getting into his black pick up truck and slamming the door behind him, Derek joined the highway in the direction of Emily’s home. She lived far out in the suburbs, which was why they usually spent time at Derek’s place. The roads were busy. The roads were always busy. It’s like California had just too many people in it. It was a pot plant which had grown too big for its pot. The roots needed somewhere to go but the walls of the pot keep pressing in.
Derek reached Emily’s after nearly an hour to find her car on her drive and the cat wandering about outside, weaving in and out of the flower garden. It stepped gingerly between rows of pansies. Banging the car door shut, he knelt down to the cat.
“Hello tabs,” Derek cooed, stroking the stripy auburn and black cat’s back. The cat ducked his head away and let out a soft hiss, then it sauntered off into the neighbour’s garden through a hole under a panel of fence.
Derek perused the house from the front. No sign of break in or forced entry. No lights on but then it was still daylight, just. Stepping onto the porch Derek rang the bell. It bleated out a cheerful nursery rhyme tune but Emily didn’t come to the door. He tried again, the childish song ringing out into the dead house.
Derek took his cell out of his pocket and tried ringing her. No answer.
He tried the front door handle and it fell open silently. It was a gaping entry into the unknown. Taking three guarded steps inside Derek paused and stared down the corridor. At the end of it was the kitchen, Emily’s favouri
te room, as she adored preparing food. He knew it was prettily embellished with new cake moulds and floral aprons hung up under a sign that said ‘This kitchen never closes as long as you’re the cook’. Off to the right was the living room, sparsely decorated but for a television, a two-seater sofa and bookcase that held all of Emily’s favourite classics. Finally, to the left was a staircase leading to Emily’s bedroom and one guest bedroom. It was a small, detached house but Emily didn’t earn a lot.
“Emily?” Derek called out into the humid air. The word echoed down the empty hall.
Steadily, Derek made his way down the corridor and into the open plan kitchen. The place was spotless, just as he hoped it would be. There were no breakages and it had been recently cleaned. Emily liked to keep on top of the housework. Derek stepped around to the other side of the breakfast bar, a fear eating away at him that he would find her body on the other side of it. He heaved a sigh of relief when he turned the corner to find only well-polished floorboards. Swiftly moving into the living room, Derek noticed Emily’s copy of Pride and Prejudice open in the middle. She’d been rereading it again. Derek smiled to himself. The TV remote was balanced carefully on top of the flat screen and all the coasters were adjacent to the edges of the tables. Everything screamed of Emily’s presence.
Then Derek caught the reflection of the blond in the mirror, her fair hair unmistakable. Whirling around he stared through the empty doorway. There was no one there. Back tracking through the ground floor rooms, he confirmed he was alone. The only sound was the clock ticking mundanely on the windowsill like a metronome keeping a beat. In time to the ticks, Derek climbed the stairs two at a time.
When he reached the top a photograph of Emily and her parents huddled around her stared at him. It was taken when she was just a toddler; dressed in a red velvet pinafore, white t-shirt underneath, with matching headband. The enormity of Emily’s disappearance slowly sank through Derek’s body, reaching out to his stiff limbs. Soon he might have to contact her parents. The thought made his inhale of breath shake.
The first room he came to was the bathroom. Peering inside he noted the usual array of shampoos, conditioners, moisturizers and body washes. Everything shined with cleanliness. One side of the mirrored cabinet stood open, displaying a range of prescription medicine, painkillers and allergy tablets. In the other, half the mirror reflected a flash of blond behind Derek, so close she could be breathing down his neck. Derek turned but he only stared into empty space.
Moving swiftly on, Derek checked the spare room. No one ever stayed but Emily liked to keep it neat just in case. Once a year some member of her family would fly over and visit. This year was due to be her mother in just a couple of month’s time. The floral bedspread was draped neatly over the bed, with matching curtains and lampshade.
Turning the corner to Emily’s room Derek’s heart sank through the ground. Her body lay hopelessly sprawled across the bed; blood soaked through the sheets, staining the once-lavender pillows a deep shade of red. Taking a step closer, Derek noticed savage puncture wounds on her neck. They were little red holes, no more than five milometers across or more than three centimetres apart. A small trickle of dried blood ran from each down her neck and into the bedding. Face down, her arms lay out to her sides, one bent at the elbow so her hand was almost touching her cheek, her legs spread apart.
Derek staggered back. Emily. Guilt and dread flooded through Derek’s body, reaching out to his fingertips and toes. He could have prevented this.
He saw Emily’s cell phone charging on the bedside table and strode across the room to check it, ignoring the blood spattered on the floor. There were a bunch of texts and missed calls from himself, work and a couple of her friends. He flicked through the texts. Debbie asking for boyfriend advice, apparently she’d had a fight with Max about him drinking too much. Kirsty texted about outfit choices, apparently she had a first date with some guy named Rick lined up. No one had arranged to meet Emily. No one had realised what her absence meant.
Derek squinted back at Emily’s body, wanting to see but not really wanting to see. Her hair was in disarray and she was dressed in black lace nightwear torn down one side, exposing the pale skin of her ribs and part of her back.
Derek pictured how the attack must have taken place. He envisaged Emily; make up wipe in hand, gently rubbing her face clean before bed. He saw her moving around her room, ducking in and out of her en suite, toothbrush between her lips, her pallid skin intensified by the dark nightwear. Covered by such thin satin, her slight frame must have looked so vulnerable to the vampire watching her, waiting to attack. Emily would have been absentmindedly preparing herself for bed when evil came out of the darkness and did this to her.
Too shocked to shed a tear, Derek returned to his car and started the engine. He waited a moment, wondering what feeling would come over him – anger, sadness or perhaps guilt – but he felt numb. His body was ice. He reversed out of the drive, joined the highway, and drove towards the horizon with no destination in mind.
*
Returning that evening to his own home, he found his front door unlocked. The night had a chill in the air and a cool breeze that swept across the suburbs in calming waves. The streetlights had blinked on as he pulled into his parking space and light up the house. Thick clouds hid the stars and the moon from view. It began to spit with rain.
The door opened into a dark house. Flipping the light on and stepping into the front room, he found the blond sitting casually on his sofa.
“You again,” he sighed, his voice a mixture of fear and grim disappointment.
She sat still and glared at him, her eyes turning dark red. Wearing jeans, a tank top and her black leather jacket, she seemed more casual than he had ever seen her. The way she sat silently, staring, put Derek on edge. A shiver worked its way around his body. Blondie stood up and made deliberate paces towards him. She placed a hand on his left shoulder and circled him, dragging the hand with her as she moved. She trailed her hand over his body like something she owned, like a fresh kill.
“How’s your girlfriend, Derek?” she asked, a smug grin on her face.
Derek’s anger bubbled up. His breathing turned ragged and a hot flush rose in his face. Blondie let out a shrill laugh.
“I am sorry Derek, I meant to turn her but she just wouldn’t give in. She sure was a feisty one,” she explained, her tone emotionless.
“That was my girl,” Derek seethed.
“Well usually it’s not so challenging. All the others I’ve turned lately have been easy. There’s a whole little troop of us now. You might have seen us at The Bar. Oh wait,” she paused, her voice taking on a humorous edge. “Of course you have, you dirty little stalker.”
She gave him a look of daggers and continued. “Sometimes they struggle with the change but I mentor them, help them through, you know.”
The blond halted her pacing and stared into his eyes. For a moment Derek was overwhelmed and swayed on his feet. His eyes blacked out like he was being hypnotised. His voice vanished and he became as harmless as a child mesmerised by some shiny new toy.
“I didn’t want to hurt you Derek. The men I feed on, I do just that, I don’t hurt them. And it’s generally only women I change, because I change them for company. Male companions get on my nerves. But it seems you’ve left me no choice. You’ve run to the police and you came back to The Bar. You involved that girlfriend of yours and I didn’t trust her one bit,” she went on, Derek still captivated. “But I’ll do the decent thing and let you have your last words,” she said as she snapped her fingers and broke the spell.
“I don’t mean any harm. I didn’t mean to involve the police. That was before. Before I knew what you…were. I’ll leave town and never return. I’ll do anything. Anything,” he begged.
A thin sheen of sweat had formed on his brow and his fingers began to shake with fear. He breathed heavily, his voice coming out thick with panic.
“I’m afraid I can’t just let you go. At
least not human.” A smile sparkled on her face, radiant and beautiful. “How about you become my first ever male change?” The prospect seemed to excite her. Her eyes became wide and wild. She tucked a strand of buttery blond hair behind her ear and licked her lips instinctively, as if in preparation. Her sharp canines came to razor points and she shifted her stance, ready for attack.
Derek stumbled back but had nowhere to run. He muttered pleas of mercy under his breath as the vampire pushed him up against the wall, just as he had seen her do to the drunk outside of the club. Her blazing red eyes burnt into his as she positioned his head away and sunk her teeth into his tender neck.
Shooting pains ran through his veins as if the venom was setting them alight. The pain felt like a kind of indulgence, as if he was partaking in a secret pleasure. What should have come out as a squeal, escaped Derek’s lips as a groan. The venom was sinking deeper into his body, taking over his vital organs. Red-hot excitement coasted through him, surging into his core and reaching out to every fibre of his being. His humanity was being dissolved by the venom, new DNA constructed under the skin.
