Silence and the Word

by MaryAnne Mohanraj

  And the urgency was strong in him now. He unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down, releasing his cock into the chill night air for a moment before he slid inside her. At least by contrast she was warm and wet. He pushed up and in, and then pulled back, and this motion at least was familiar, so familiar that only a few strokes later he came, shuddering deep inside her, legs pressed hard against hers and his hands clenched deep in the soil. He collapsed on top of her, mindless for a moment. She let him rest there, silently, and it was not until he raised his head to look at her, a question in his eyes, that she smiled at him and asked, “Again?”

  ‘…for they are creatures of insatiable appetites…’

  They lay nestled on their sides in the shadow of a stone, her hips against his, her small left breast cradled in his long-fingered hand. He was asleep, and the small puncture wounds in his neck were barely visible in the fading moonlight. Her green eyes were opened wide, and her fingers curled around his hand, tracing lines in the skin. They lay that way an endless time, until the light of day began to creep over the eastern hills.

  “Peter… .” Her voice was surprisingly soft, and he did not answer. “Peter, it’s time to go.” She turned in his arms, but he only groaned. A smile stretched across her face, although something lurked beneath it. She raised a hand and raked a nail across his chest. Peter’s eyes flew open, a question burning in them. Before he could ask it, she stopped his mouth with a kiss, long and sweet and sad with might-have-beens. Then she was pulling away and dressing quickly in the breaking light. “I’ll come to you tomorrow night,” she murmured. “Be sure that he’s asleep. Drug him if you must. I make no promises—none of my kind has attempted this.”

  “And the price?” Peter asked. “What do you want from me in exchange?”

  She pulled her top over her head and shook her hair free before turning to smile at him. “The price is paid. If it works, the two of you can buy me dinner in a century or two…and perhaps we’ll share something more than dinner?” A sad question lingered in her eyes, but before Peter could ask her what was wrong, he blinked, and she was gone.

  ‘…and remember, the grave is a cold place; the coldness of the soil they sleep in will creep into the monster’s skin and remain there, despite all they do to warm themselves…’

  Ian hadn’t wanted to take anything to help him sleep. Peter had had to borrow their landlord’s cat, bring it quietly inside and let it walk around the bathroom for a bit. When Ian used the bathroom later, the hair set off his allergies and he started coughing, shuddering. Peter’s throat tightened, but it did mean that Ian was willing to take some antihistamines…and within half an hour, Ian was out cold. Peter opened the window, and she flowed into the room, naked and lovely. He didn’t even ask her how she’d managed that, considering they were two stories up. He didn’t want to know.

  They stood facing each other over Ian’s bed, where he lay, curled and trusting as a child.

  “Pull back the sheets,” she said.

  Peter hesitated—but Ian had pulled them up so tight that only his face was visible. Peter gently pulled the sheets from Ian’s fingers and drew them down. She dragged in her breath and bit her lip.

  “He’s so ugly!”

  White-hot words rose to Peter’s lips and died there. To a creature made perfect in form, any human might well be ugly…and Ian’s body was a cruel parody of what it once had been. Peter could still see the perfection of line in Ian’s curving back, the hidden strength of his hands. He didn’t need to show her, though.

  She glanced back and forth between them. Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides. She took a step forwards, and reached down to touch Ian’s chest.

  “You won’t… .” Peter didn’t know what he could say—everything was in her hands now, and she could do whatever she wanted, but still… .

  She shook her head. “I have no desire for your lover. I will not touch him beyond what is needful. But there is a problem.”

  “What?” Peter’s voice broke on that one word, but he didn’t care. It was too late for caring about such things.

  “I cannot do this without desire. The blood will be foul; I need heat burning through me to clean it. Lie you down beside your lover. Touch me as I taste him. Keep me burning, or we will have no chance of cleansing him.”

  Peter nodded, and slowly stripped. He lay down on the bed and she lay down atop him, her mouth near Ian’s throat. Peter’s pulse quickened at the feel of her flesh on his chest, the feel of Ian’s thigh against his—still, despite everything. She kissed him, and he caressed her breast, feeling the fire start to burn. Then she lifted her head.

  “One more thing… .” she said.

  “Anything.” What could he deny her now?

  “I am Katya.” She smiled, with some effort. “I thought we should be properly introduced.”

  Peter wondered how much danger was in this for her, after all. He wanted to ask—but she didn’t want to say, and perhaps it was better that way.

  “Sounds Transylvanian,” he said instead.

  “Ukrainian, actually.” Katya smiled more genuinely then, and bent down to Ian’s throat. Peter slid a hand between her thighs and began to caress her as her teeth sunk into his lover’s skin and the bright blood flowed.

  ‘…it is their power that is so beautiful, so sexual and irresistible to the poor mortal…’

  The effects hadn’t been immediate.

  Katya had left just before dawn, and Peter had gotten up, pulled the shade closed, and then climbed back into bed. He was asleep within minutes, and had slept until nightfall. When he woke, Ian had still been asleep, and Peter had pulled back the sheet carefully. His eyes had filled with tears when he saw no change in his lover’s body—he almost woke Ian then and confessed everything.

  Katya had said it might take more time than usual. He had promised her he would be patient.

  Now his patience was rewarded. Three weeks gone, and Ian was looking better. The difference was slight, but there was visibly more flesh on his bones. He was eating more, and keeping it down. His interest in sex had rekindled, and though Peter still refused to let Ian carry his full weight, he could feel the returning strength in Ian’s body.

  They made love slowly at night, and Peter kept his mouth busy all over Ian’s body, along back and thighs and calves—anywhere but on Ian’s own mouth. Katya had warned him that if they kissed, the fangs might extend involuntarily, and Peter wasn’t ready to tell Ian what he had done—not until he was absolutely sure of the cure’s potency. So Peter’s mouth was most often on his lover’s cock, his hands feeling the returning muscle of Ian’s thighs. When Ian moaned his pleasure, his hands clenched in Peter’s hair, Peter thought of Katya and prayed.

  ‘…as we remarked earlier, their unholy vitality can only be explained by a pact with Lucifer. Yet it is easy to see why a man might be tempted by eternal youth, health and life, though it be at the cost of his soul…’

  Peter sat cross-legged on the wide bed, watching the snow fall outside their window and carefully avoiding sight of Ian’s heavy gold crucifix on the west wall. Peter still dreamed of her occasionally, though it had been several months since they’d met, and he had to resist the impulse to visit the cemetery again. He had found other streets for his nocturnal ramblings; the city was large enough that it would be months before he learned all its nighttime moods and places. Of course, he had nothing but time.

  Ian stirred in the blankets, flinging one pale arm out from under the covers and across Peter’s thighs. The impact woke him, and he blinked sleepily at Peter. “It’s almost morning, dear. Been up all night again?”

  “Mmhmmm… .” Peter reached out to draw down the shade, as he had every dawn since that night in the cemetery. The light hurt Ian’s eyes. “How are you feeling today?”

  “Actually, I’m feeling wonderful.” Ian spoke slowly, considering his words. “I didn’t expect another remission—I didn’t even expect to see Christmas this year, you know. But I feel almo
st healthy today. Perhaps we could go for a walk later? It’s been so long since I’ve been out in the light… .”

  Ian smiled up at Peter hopefully, and Peter’s heart twisted once again as he reached to pull Ian into his arms. “Of course we can go for a walk, love. I’m so glad that you’re feeling better. But perhaps we should have a talk first. There’s something I need to tell you…” ‘…and I pray that you can forgive me,’ he finished silently.

  Amanda Means Love

  The Saturday after her mother left, Manda found the bear. That Saturday was her eleventh birthday. Eleven wasn’t a very exciting birthday; when she turned thirteen, she’d get to go outside the domes in her own moonsuit, and when she turned fifteen, she’d get to use the low-grav fliers, but eleven was just another birthday. Manda’s dad had lifted his head long enough to tell her, “Your mother bought you a present before she went away. I think she left it in the closet.” Then he went back to staring at his shoes.

  Manda had gone down the long, curved hall to her mom’s room with its cramped closets, where abandoned boxes and bags sat under hanging racks of clothes. When her mom had left, she had left them only a tear-marked note on her bed, smeared with a bright lipstick kiss. Manda hadn’t been able to read her mom’s messy writing, but when her dad had taken the note out of Manda’s hand and read it, his face had crumpled like a real Earth-fabric shirt, full of little lines. Some of the lines had gone away in the last week, but others had just gotten darker and deeper, and Manda thought they were probably there for good.

  Manda’s mom had taken nothing, not even a purse. For a while, Manda had hoped her mom would at least come back for her stuff…but she hadn’t. Manda guessed her mom’s new friend would be buying her lots of new stuff to replace the old things she’d left behind. One small bag perched on a shoe box held make-up and a mini make-up computer. Manda remembered playing with that once, years ago, letting the machine sample her skin and decide what color blush was best for her. She had covered her face in make-up, then gone to show her mom, who had just smiled and kept talking to one of her friends on the net. Her dad had sighed and then made Manda wash it all off. Another bag was stuffed with night things—pretty things in blues and purples. Manda’s mom hadn’t worn those in a long time. In the third bag was the bear.

  At first, Manda was annoyed with her mom for choosing a teddy bear. She was eleven years old today—she wasn’t a little kid any longer. But the more she looked at the bear, the more she liked it. It was far nicer than her battered teddy bear—this one had fur soft as a kitten’s and was just the color of melted chocolate. It was big, too—almost as tall as she was, and when she said hello, it answered quickly, in a warm, furry voice. It was much smarter than her old Teddy350.

  “Hello, teddy bear.”

  “Hello. What is your name?”

  The teddy spoke so politely, that Manda felt she should be polite too, and answered with her whole name. “My name is Amanda Morley.”

  “It is good to see you again, Amanda. You have changed.”

  The teddy must have had some bugs in it, because Manda had never seen it before, but when it walked forward and gave her a big hug, she decided not to worry about the bugs. The hug was soft and enveloping. The teddy smelled like pine trees and sunlight. Manda took Teddy’s paw, and led him to her room. Then her dad called her for dinner, and she left Teddy standing there, looking a little lost. She promised to play with him later, and Teddy nodded solemnly.

  That night, after macaroni and cheese, her dad settled down in his chair, heavy glass in hand. Manda asked him to play a game with her, but he said he was busy with work. She understood; he’d been working a lot lately. She’d manage on her own—she wasn’t a little kid anymore. When she got to her room, Teddy was standing where she had left him.

  “What do you want to play, Teddy?”

  “Would you like to play ‘Catch Amanda?’“

  “Sure, I guess.”

  She wasn’t sure what the rules of the game were, but when Teddy started toddling towards her on his stumpy legs, she quickly stepped away. Her room wasn’t huge, but there was enough room for her to run around, jumping up onto the bed and down again, up onto her desk and down again, sliding to hide underneath the bed once, where Teddy couldn’t fit, running faster and faster with Teddy toddling behind until she ran out of energy and collapsed, laughing. Teddy pounced.

  “Gotcha!” His big furry body fell on top of hers, careful not to actually squish her.

  Manda giggled. “Silly teddy. I let you.”

  “Yes, Amanda.” The teddy hugged her tight—and then it started to kiss her lips. Manda tried to pull back, but there was nowhere but floor and Teddy’s warm arms. She almost got scared…but nothing hurt. After a minute, she relaxed. Teddy’s kisses were kind of nice. His mouth didn’t move, so it was like having a tiny furry pillow pressed against her lips. She let Teddy kiss her for a little while, and then commanded, “Teddy, stop. I have to go to sleep.”

  “Yes, Amanda.” Teddy obediently stood up, reaching a hand out to help her to her feet. Manda let him help her up, but when she changed into her pj’s, she did it in the bathroom. This was kind of a strange teddy bear. Maybe there was something wrong with its programming—but Manda didn’t want to give it up. It was the last present her mom had given her, and if her mom came back, she might be hurt if Manda had thrown it away. As long as the bear still obeyed commands, it should be okay. Manda had never heard of a teddy bear hurting anyone.

  The next evening, they played “Catch Amanda” again. Manda didn’t run as hard this time—she was curious. When Teddy caught her and kissed her, she closed her eyes, the way they did it in the grown-up holos. Manda’s mom had watched those a lot, especially late at night, when she thought Manda was asleep. It was hard to sleep through all the funny noises, though, and once Manda had snuck out of her bed and down the hall to watch the shadowy figures moving around her mom. It was kind of creepy, though, and after that time Manda had just pulled the blankets up tighter and put the pillow over her head so she could sleep.

  Teddy kissed her lips for a long time, and then started kissing her face. Then her neck. Little shivers went through Manda. When Teddy’s paws started rubbing her sides, Manda didn’t say stop. When the bear’s hands moved to her chest, where small breasts made lumps in the fabric of her dress, Manda didn’t say stop. For a long time Teddy kissed her, his paws rubbing gently at her breasts, and it was only when her dad called down the hall, “Hey, kiddo—bedtime!” that she commanded the bear, “Teddy, stop!”

  The next night, Manda went straight up to her room after dinner. By this time, she had realized that her mother hadn’t bought this bear for her. Manda had found her mom’s present in the hall closet—a set of fairytale holos, full of princes and princesses living happily ever after. Boring, like all the other presents her mom had ever given her. The teddy was a much better present. Manda guessed her mom had bought it for one of her grown-up friends. Manda didn’t know why someone would make a teddy bear that did sex stuff—but she wasn’t dumb. She knew what Teddy was doing. And added to the shivers from Teddy’s paws was a little thrill—she was doing something that she knew both her parents would disapprove of. Served them right.

  That night Teddy’s paws moved from her breasts to her thighs, and then slid between them. One paw rubbed back and forth, until his lush fur was wet and matted. Manda whimpered, and her back arched. Teddy’s broad paw curved and pushed against her, gently at first, then harder and harder. Eventually, Manda’s small body twisted as strong shivers raced through her, and her vision blurred for a long, sweet moment. After that, the game changed.

  Now they played “Catch Teddy” as often as “Catch Amanda.” Manda would laugh when she caught him, demanding, “Kiss me, Teddy.” And Teddy would. Manda took good care of her Teddy, washing his fur and drying it, brushing it till it shone. When Manda was almost eleven and a half, the game changed again.

  Teddy was on top of her again, kissing her, his paws
busy against her. Manda shivered and twisted beneath him. It wasn’t quite working that day, and Manda didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how to tell him what she wanted—especially when she didn’t know what it was. Manda started reciting lines from her mom’s holos. “C’mere, baby.” “God, yes.” “Do it, darling.” Teddy ignored all of these, the way he ignored anything he didn’t understand, playing by the rules of “Catch Amanda,” until finally Manda tried “Take me now!”

  Her eyes fixed on the ceiling, Manda couldn’t see the long penis that extended from its concealed furry sheath. But she felt it, sliding inside her, almost like a thick finger might. For a moment she was afraid—but it went so quickly that before she could blink Teddy was sunk deep inside her—and it felt good. There had been a slight twinge, but nothing as bad as what the health class holos had warned them about. The bear began moving, still kissing her face with furry lips, and the movements felt so good that Manda put her hand in her mouth and bit down. When Manda came this time, she felt like her head was exploding. And when Teddy stopped moving, the bear said softly, “I love you, Amanda.”

  Manda hugged him tight. “I love you too, Teddy.” Then he stood up, and his penis slid smoothly back inside him—the slit was practically invisible. Manda put on her pj’s and fell contentedly asleep.

  The next day, Manda was late to dinner because she was playing with Teddy and lost track of time. When she finally arrived at the table, her father roused from his daze long enough to ask a few questions.

  “Sweetie, what do you do in your room all evening?”

  “Homework.”

  Her father frowned, his eyes fixed a few inches above her head. “I don’t remember homework taking you so long.”