Blood Like Ice

by Lee Hayton

  “We don’t have time to head up into the hills again,” I said. “Do you know anywhere good, close by?”

  Jimmy stared straight ahead for so long that I thought he was ignoring me or hadn’t heard. Then he sighed. “There used to be an old train station a few blocks over. When they rerouted the tracks through Riverside, it was abandoned.” He shook his head. “It’s probably long gone.” In a weaker voice, he whispered, “Just like everything else.”

  I ignored the second statement in favor of the first. “Well, lead the way. It’s a better chance that nothing.”

  The better chance turned out okay. The train station had been knocked down long ago, but in its place was a row of sad industrial buildings. I recognized the type—I’d lived amongst them for long enough. Some development craze must have hit the region and the tilt-slabs popped up in response, almost overnight.

  It had happened a lot after the slavery. Everybody paused, wondering how this affected them, then business decided it was a jackpot and set about cashing in.

  The trouble was, as all business troubles seem to be, that once it was evident that a bandwagon was coming along the road—everybody could see it. The ones who jumped on first were okay, but the weight of all the people piling in the back crushed the vehicle to splinters.

  The architects of the craze went on to bigger and better things. The late arrivals lay destroyed in the rubble.

  If it weren’t for these sad remnants strewn about the city, the lower classes would have a more desperate fight for survival.

  Out of the dozen gray buildings on offer, I chose the one that was half-falling down. If I opted for the sturdiest, we’d likely run into competition. The most decrepit stood too high a chance of maiming us, while the middling one was just right.

  I could hear the shuffle of other derelicts inside the walls but doubted they’d bother us. There was plenty of room inside.

  With gratitude, I dumped the bulging cardboard box down in a cleanish corner and sat down beside it with a sigh. There was an alcove—likely built into the walls to house a printer unit or similar. The shelter would keep any stray sunlight off me quite nicely.

  Jimmy didn’t make any noise at all as he sat cross-legged beside me. That damned porcelain dog was still held tightly in his hands.

  “What are your thoughts on blood banks in the area?” I asked, trying to prod him into conversation. I didn’t like this new Jimmy. Quiet contemplation made him seem a touch close to barking mad.

  When the query had been left to die on the cold, concrete floor, I gave his leg a quick poke. “You okay?”

  Of course, he wasn’t, but it would be nice if he’d at least tell me that. Nope. Just kept staring at the object in his hand.

  The only way to get his attention likely wouldn’t end well for either of us. If I leaned over to steal the dog, I wasn’t sure if I’d still have my hand when I leaned back.

  “We can think about it in the morning,” I said. “I’m sure if we can source something to eat then we’ll be doing a lot better by the end of the day.”

  That was the truth. Right at that second, as the night began to edge into the soft glow that signaled morning, my hunger was so intense that it felt like a living thing wriggling inside my belly. I’d never gone so long without feeding.

  My parents handed me over to the authorities so quickly that I’d never had the chance to be on the run. When I finally did escape the empire’s clutches, it was in the company of Asha. She kept me topped up without any complaints.

  Hopefully, I’d find food before I saw her. Otherwise, I’d drain her dry.

  If we couldn’t find a handy blood bank, perhaps one of the drunks sheltering inside could be of service. Chances were, the money they had for booze came from a bank in the first place. If I tried my hardest and looked my sweetest, then there was a possibility they’d donate straight to the cause.

  “Hey, how about these boxes, eh?” I hooked it closer and opened up the top. “I guess that your granddaughter hoped to find you one day with a cure.”

  The top of the box contained the things I’d already seen. Now, they were higgledy-piggledy from Gregory tossing them hurriedly back into the box. I sorted them out with care, starting a pile of articles, photographs, and handwritten notes on my knees. My trousers weren’t clean, but they were better than the floor.

  “I’ve never even heard rumors about this stuff,” I said. Back in my hometown, the vampires had been ruling the roost and terrorizing the neighbors—no wonder we all got handed over so quickly. There’d never been a desire to transform back to human. After a few decades in those vamps’ company, I looked upon my old form as feeble. Something to be avoided, not something I would search my life to attain.

  That was a long time ago, though.

  “Hey, Jimmy. Isn’t this you?”

  I passed across the photograph, and he took it with shaking fingers. Even with the picture held in his hand, Jimmy didn’t tear his eyes away from the china dog long enough to look at it. After a few minutes, I pulled it back and turned it over to read the old writing.

  “Granddaddy Jim, Grandmommy Sue, and Mommy,” I recited. “Your wife and daughter were fine-looking women.” I gave him a quick nudge. “How on earth did you swing that?”

  “She was so pretty,” Jimmy said in a forlorn voice. He banged on his chest with a loosely curled fist. “Inside here, too.”

  After the brief resurgence in life, Jimmy went back to his state of apathy. I kept going through the contents of the box, finding the same story cropping up over and over again.

  “Did you ever hear of this guy?” I asked an hour later. When Jimmy didn’t respond, I tugged on his arm until he looked at me. “In Esme’s things, it has a vampire named Zeke who turned back into a man again.”

  Jimmy shook his head. “With the help of a witch name Zara after abstaining from blood to the point that he turned from a vampire into a butterfly.”

  “You know this man?”

  Jimmy laughed and shook his head again. “It’s not a man, it’s an old myth. It’s been circling around down in the vampire pits for as long as I can remember.”

  He pushed himself to his feet and brushed down the front of his legs. The doggy went into his pocket.

  “I’m going to take a walk down around here. See the lay of the land.”

  “I’ll come with you.” I started to pack the clippings into the box again.

  “No offense, Norman, but I’m getting a bit sick of the sight of you. I’ll go by myself if you don’t mind.” He didn’t wait to see if I minded, just walked around the corner, out of sight.

  I was tired of Jimmy’s company, too, so I didn’t bother to follow him.

  For all that Jimmy said the tale was a myth, the sheer number of items crammed into Esme’s cardboard box made it appear authentic. There were photographs of the man, before and after. Clippings noting the supposed event—mostly local rags but a handful from businesses with sterling reputations.

  The witch was scoffed at, what a foolish thing to believe in this day and age, but I didn’t want to give up on that one so lightly. Asha called herself a witch—or had been called it, more like—and the things she did would be scoffed at if they wound up in the paper.

  Until we began to cause a national health crisis, vampires had been scoffed away as being myths, too.

  Most of the information in the box was just repeats. I folded up one of the handwritten notes that summarized all the information in one go and stuck that in my pocket. I also nabbed the flash drive and held onto that, too.

  I couldn’t carry the box around forever. This way, if somebody destroyed it before I could come back, at least I’d have most of the information close to me. If it all turned out to be rubbish, then at least I had fun dreaming for a day.

  Hunger swept over me in a wave, drowning me with savage longing. Tomorrow. I’d really have to sort out some blood tomorrow. For the moment, with the glow of the sun just started to hint at making an appearance, I wa
s content to sleep.

  “Get off me!” Jimmy’s voice rang out in a shrill cry, jerking me out of sleep. I rubbed my eyes and sat up, ignoring the wave of weakness that spun my head in circles.

  “Jimmy? What are you doing?”

  He stood over by one of the crumbling exit doors. A drunk was peering at him, fists raised ready to fight. In one hand was a bottle and that got me leaping to my feet.

  In our depleted state, there was no way that Jimmy would win that fight.

  “Get away from me,” he shouted, punching at the air in front of the drunk man as a warning. The guy backed up a step and looked over his shoulder. If mates had been there before, they were now long gone.

  “Jimmy?” I called out again. Judging by the way his head bunched down into his shoulders, I knew that he’d heard me. He didn’t turn around or acknowledge me, though, and a sense of fear crept through me.

  “Why don’t you come back over here and lie down?”

  “Yeah, mate. Why don’t you go back and join your little friend? I don’t want no trouble.”

  “Leave me alone, then,” Jimmy said. He turned back to the door and started to wrench it open. The drunk rushed him, swinging the bottle.

  “Get off me!” Jimmy delivered a roundhouse punch that broke the glass and sprayed cheap liquor into the air. The drunk man issued mournful cries issued, but he kept on, tugging at Jimmy’s arm.

  “You can’t go out there, mate. It’s full daylight.”

  At that, I put the pieces together and began to run. Jimmy heard that too, flinched away from my footsteps and pulled the door with greater force.

  “No!,” I shouted, trying to move quicker. The strength had been sapped out of my legs the same way it had dribbled out of my arms when I lifted the box.

  It wasn’t even close.

  Jimmy got the door open and stepped outside while I was still ten yards away. The noxious stench of burning flesh was billowing back through the door by the time I could reach the handle.

  I couldn’t do anything. I danced back around the light spilling through the doorway and stared outside in horror. Jimmy kept moving, staggering forward even as the sun cut through his body and turned it into ash.

  The drunk darted out the door, grabbing at Jimmy’s arm in a vain attempt to pull him back. By the time he caught him, the sun had wrought so much damage that the limb slipped off the shoulder like well-cooked meat, leaving the drunkard staggering back with it still gripped in his hand.

  “Gah!” he shouted and tossed it aside.

  Jimmy took one more step forward, then his knees buckled, all the muscles, tendons, and sinew holding them together burning into a melting globule of flesh. His bones clattered to the ground, sizzling on the hot concrete.

  I turned from the entrance, but it didn’t matter. Jimmy’s destruction was still showing in Technicolor in the private theater of my mind.

  He hadn’t screamed. Even when the burning started, when he was still fully conscious and could feel every cell in his body protesting, Jimmy didn’t cry out. He embraced the pain and walked out further, seeking the assurance of final death.

  A shudder passed through my body. The hunger rose up, became overwhelming, turned my brain into an animal, needing to slake the raging thirst before I could die.

  The drunk man was still there, staring out at the scene in horror. He already knew what I was, what Jimmy had been. The man hadn’t run away.

  Goddamn sympathizers. They were all full of a yearning that vampires be set free, yet they did nothing. The empathy wasn’t genuine—it was just a salve to their consciences, to what they believed themselves to be. Raise a finger though? Storm the barricades and risk their necks? Nope.

  This man would walk across broken glass to fetch another drink, but he wouldn’t spend a second trying to free me.

  I fell on him. The monster that resided inside me instead of soul took over. I plunged my teeth into his neck, using his shock to my advantage. When you can’t be strong, you have to be smart. When you can’t be clever, you have to seize your moments.

  The rush of blood into me ignited my thirst, driving my hunger to the highest level of red, danger. Danger.

  I’d drained half of him before it started to ebb. The energy began to work its way out into my dead flesh, offering me its life to keep up the pretense of my own.

  I’m not usually greedy, but I’d never been starved for so long before.

  I caught myself before the end. The drunk’s pulse was feeble, his heart struggling to pump. Too far gone for a hospital to bring him back but not so lost that I couldn’t save him. If I pumped my own blood mixed with his back into him, he’d turn. He’d survive.

  I couldn’t do that again. The fools I’d been tricked into turning at the hotel would be the last.

  I wiped the blood from my face as I leaned forward to suck again, taking out the last of his life force as gently as I could manage. His eyes stared up at me, glazing to opaque already, reproachful.

  I sat back on my heels, staring into his dead face, covered with the stickiness of the man’s slowly drying blood.

  As the energy soared through my body, filling it back up to capacity, I put my head in my hands.

  I would give anything to be free of this.

  When night came, I stepped over the dead body of the drunk and put the tip of my sneaker into the pile of ash that had been Jimmy. I smoothed it out into a gray smear on the gray concrete. He blended in until he disappeared.

  I could stand here, I thought. Just stay immobile until morning and then let the sun carry me away. In a few minutes, everything would end.

  I knocked the thought back, sending it spinning to break its bones on the wall. The unfairness rose up to take its place. That was the emotion I was used to, the one that drove me. Everything that had ever happened to me in this world was so bloody unfair.

  As I trekked through the streets, the rain started to fall. It washed the last of the tramp’s blood off me, then soaked deeper, beginning to loosen the stains from the conference center.

  I wished that wiping the bloodstains from my mind were that easy. I flashed back to Miss Tiddles and Asha staring at me in horror, in despair. A shudder caught me and wouldn’t let me go. I curled in two, still walking but bent over like an old man whose spine had twisted into a question mark built of age.

  The last week had played hard with my emotions. They were wrung out, tattered and battered. I needed to give them time to heal.

  And so I walked home.

  The building looked exactly the same as when I’d left it. Then, I’d been carted away by the empire. In other circumstances, this would be my triumphant return.

  Instead, I stood in the doorway and stared up at the window. It was lit from inside, somebody was in there.

  Asha? Maybe. Probably not.

  Most likely, Earnest had already rented out the apartment. If his new tenant was treated the same way as we’d been, the first job he had—in addition to paying his rent—was to clear out the belongings of the last unfortunate person to live there.

  Not that I had much, nor did Asha. Living life on the run meant traveling light.

  The pink neon sign opposite burst into light. Its promise of a twenty-four-hour laundromat was hollow, the passage of time had turned the sign into a joke.

  The building behind it was much the same as the apartment I now faced. A collection of rooms that once had a vibrant life staying inside them, now held together with spit and chewing gum, a shelter only for the desperate.

  That was me. Norman the desperate.

  A shadow passed in front of the window. Female. Tall. I swallowed hard and tried to keep my hope in check. Still, it was enough of an impetus to get me moving again. I touched the flash drive and folded notes in my pockets for good luck.

  I knocked on the apartment door, then a surge of panic hit me sideways, left me scrambling down the corridor to hide around the corner. Irrational fears took hold and reduced me to a pile of shivers. Dread fill
ed up my belly then traveled further, choking me as it rose up the back of my throat.

  The sunlight. Surely that was a better option? Walk into the sunshine for one last moment of glory before melting to ash.

  I missed the sun. The warmth of its rays fed more than just light and heat. They fulfilled me in a way that was hard to remember after so long spent deprived.

  I punched myself in the leg. Stupid thoughts. I hit myself again, this time in my belly, forcing the panic to flee for its life.

  When my arms stopped trembling, and my head felt clear, I walked back down the corridor and knocked again on the apartment door.

  This time, when footsteps approached on the other side, I stood in place. I saw the strange reflection as someone put their eye to the keyhole. I raised up my head so they could see my face.

  The door opened.

  Chapter Nine

  “It doesn’t give us a lot to go on,” Miss Tiddles said, tossing aside the wet paper and stretching. “What does it even mean by a witch, anyhow? I’ve never heard of such a thing outside of books and telly shows.”

  I reached over and picked up the notes, carefully spreading them out on the dining room set to dry. Right next to Asha’s bike and the wealth of grease that brought to the table.

  Unless I went back to the decrepit tilt-slab building to fetch the box with the rest of the information, they were all I had. Since I’d rather stab myself in the eye than go back there, I guessed that meant they were the whole of it.

  “Do you know this vampire?” Asha asked. “Or non-vampire, rather?”

  “No.” I shook my head and reached out to stroke the pages again. “But he comes from the same part of the country I grew up in. Only a few miles away from my hometown.”

  “Is that relevant?” The cat leaped up onto the table, her quick changes in form making me feel dizzy. “Do you think they make vampires different up there?”

  “I don’t know.” After the deluge of experiences from the past few days, just those few simple questions had me edging into irritation. Or maybe that was just my natural reaction to other people. As I sat back down on the couch, trying to calm my breathing, I wondered if I should just spend my life alone.