The Blood That Bonds

by Christopher Buecheler

  Two rolled her eyes and bit her lower lip, fighting back tears. Sam seemed to be trying to find the right words, but coming up empty. Two waved her hand, dismissive. “Don’t worry about it, Sam. I’ll be okay.”

  “Look, Two, I’m just a poor Dominican girl from the Bronx, so maybe it’s not my place to say, but maybe you need to look on the bright side? You’re not on heroin. You’ve got friends. This might be a chance to start a new life.

  Two said nothing, just stared, sullen, at the floor.

  Sam toyed with another cigarette for a moment, then lit it. She looked concerned.

  “What, Sam?”

  “You want me to be honest?”

  “Yes. I can handle that.”

  Sam shrugged, trying for nonchalance. “I don’t know you very well, Two. We only met a day ago. But I like you, and I’m worried that you’re going to go and do something stupid, like kill yourself or something. That’s why I’ve been sticking around. I’m afraid to leave you alone.”

  Two shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. At least, it hadn’t occurred to me yet. Not since right after Theroen died anyway. I wouldn’t do that to you or Tori.”

  “Good. She needs you to take care of her. And I think you can count her as another friend, and me, so now you’re up to five. You could maybe forget Abraham, if you tried, and go back to a normal life. Would that be so bad?”

  Two pondered this, trying to put her feelings into words. “No,” she said after some time. “No, it wouldn’t be so bad. Being human is a wonderful thing, in a lot of ways, and I guess I could probably get used to it again. It’s being without him that I can’t get used to. I’ll never forget, Sam. I... there was love, a lot of it, even though we didn’t know each other for that long. But that’s not all of it. When Theroen turned me into a vampire, it connected us in a way that human beings just can’t understand.

  “The way his mind worked, it was always there. I didn’t even really notice it, not until he was gone. I feel empty, Sam. Like a part of me died with him. That feeling’s not going to go away. I can tell you that right now. At best, it’s just going to fade a little.”

  “So what are your options then, Two? Find another vampire? Make the change again? Maybe you could get Tori to do it.”

  “Tori’s not strong enough. I’ve been thinking about it since we left the mansion, Sam. I’ve been trying not to, but I can’t help it, and I guess really I know what the next move is. That’s why I told you that you could go. You don’t need to be a part of this. I don’t want you to.”

  Samantha closed her eyes, rested her forehead in her palm, and sighed. When she spoke, she did not look at Two. “You’re going back, aren’t you?”

  Two nodded, looking out the window. Across the street was red neon, the rain on the window pane smearing it, making it look like blood. After a moment, she answered Sam’s question.

  “Yes. I’m going back. I’m going to kill that fucker.”

  Sam was quiet a moment, smoking her cigarette and staring up at the ceiling. The ghosts of car headlights from the street below made the room pulse as if breathing.

  Finally, Sam spoke. “That’s crazy, Two. You said so yourself. You said he was a god.”

  “The Romans killed God two thousand years ago. Or his son, anyway. Maybe I can do the same.”

  Samantha blew air through her pursed lips, unimpressed with this line of reasoning. “What are you going to do, Two? Shoot him?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t know. I’ll bring a gun. And a knife. A big one.”

  “Oh, good. A big knife.” Sam rolled her eyes. “What about garlic? A wooden stake? Maybe some holy water or a cross?”

  “That’s all bullshit. Abraham’s just like anything else... if you destroy his brain, or his heart, it’ll kill him. The problem is that you need something like a nuclear bomb to do it.”

  “Or a big knife.” The sarcasm in Sam’s voice was caustic.

  “What do you want from me, Sam? I have to try. I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t try.”

  “Theroen would never forgive you for going back,” Sam said. Two drew in a shocked breath, and Sam looked up at her, saw the expression on Two’s face, and immediately put her hand to her forehead in regret. “I’m sorry, Two. Really. That was unfair.”

  After a moment, Two shook her head. “No. It would only be unfair if it wasn’t true. But I have to, Sam. I have to. Go home. Get away from this. Forget you ever met me, or Abraham, or any of us, and go back to your life.”

  Sam considered this, and nodded. “Okay, Two. I’m sorry you have to do this, but I know damn well I can’t stop you, and I don’t know enough about this to try and talk you out of it. I’ll stop making you feel bad about it.”

  “Are you leaving?”

  “I have nowhere to be... might as well hang here. I’ll leave when you do. Or when we run out of cigarettes. Whichever comes first.”

  Two nodded, and lit another.

  * * *

  Time passed, and girls began to show up. Two greeted each with a sardonic grin. They knew her. Darren’s top girls had been known by all, and Two was one of them. They asked where he was.

  Darren was out, she told them. Would he be back soon? No... no, she didn’t think so. One by one, each girl got the point. Most left smiling. None had called the cops. Two might not have brought salvation -- many girls would simply move on to new pimps and pushers -- but at least she had brought them temporary freedom.

  Molly was one of the last, and she came in bruised and bleeding, black eyes like raccoon markings, rail thin. The heroin was finally getting the better of her. Two could see it in her posture, in her eyes, and in the way it had eaten away at her body. Molly took one look at Two, and her shoulders slumped. She looked down at the ground and began to weep.

  Two crossed the distance between them at a run and took Molly up in her arms, holding the girl, crying herself, murmuring words of comfort to her friend. Finally, through hitching breaths, Molly was able to speak.

  “I thought you were dead!”

  “No. Just gone. Are you okay, Molly?”

  Molly sniffled and looked up at Two. “Yes. I mean... no. I mean...”

  “You’re hurt, but you’ll live.”

  Molly nodded. She embraced Two again for a moment, then stood back.

  “You look different.”

  Two smiled at this, wiping her eyes. “I guess I am. No more heroin. No more Darren. At all. We took care of him.”

  Molly’s eyes widened. “Is he...”

  “Dead? Yes.”

  The expression that followed this piece of news had no business on the face of a twelve year old. It was a combination of satisfaction, glee, and hate. It hurt Two’s heart to see it there, but she understood. She understood very well.

  “Good,” Molly said.

  “Yes. Listen, sweetheart, how do you feel?”

  Molly pondered this a moment, then sighed. “I feel dead, Two. I don’t even like the shit anymore, you know? I mean... I like it when I’m taking it, but I don’t really want it. I need it, though.”

  Two nodded. “This isn’t supposed to be your life. We’re going to change that.”

  “We are?”

  “Yes. Here, hang on a second.” Two counted out several hundred dollars in cash and set it on the desk. “You’re going to take a cab to eighteenth street, and get out at Sid’s bar. You’re going to ask the man at the door if you can talk to Rhes. Chances are that the guy you’re asking will be Rhes, but it might be the other bouncer. If Rhes isn’t there, tell the bouncer Dan that Two said he needs to call Rhes right now. Can you remember this?”

  Molly nodded, big eyes peering at Two, trying to keep track.

  “Good. When you meet Rhes, you’re going to give him the note I’m about to write, and whatever cash you don’t spend on the cab. He’s going to take you in until I get back. Trust me, he’ll do it. ”

  “Where are you going? Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. I’m going away
for a bit. I have things I have to take care of.”

  “Who are these people?”

  “Friends. Don’t worry about me, kiddo. Get yourself into that cab, and go see Rhes.”

  “Okay, Two.”

  Two found paper in the desk, and scribbled out a quick note.

  Rhes and Sarah,

  This is Molly. She’s a friend of mine and she needs your help. I’m sorry there’s no notice, but I know I can count on you. Please do this for me. She has the same problems I had. I don’t know if you knew what those all were, but you’ll find out soon enough. Rhes, think Basquiat.

  I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again. There’s something dangerous I have to do. I can’t explain. It’s too fucked up. Everything is fucked up, but I want you to know that right now, at this moment, I am okay. Better than I ever was. Clean and sober and I have a reason to live, even though I don’t know if I will.

  That’s why I need you to help her. Please. She’s just a kid, and I need her to live, even if I don’t. Don’t worry about hearing from Molly’s former employer. Dead people don’t spend much time looking for ex-employees.

  If Molly needs someone to hate, let her hate me.

  Thank you so much. I love you both.

  - Two

  P.S. - NO METHADONE.

  The last line was a gamble. If Molly read it, and knew what methadone was, she would never make it to Sid’s bar. If she knew that Two was sending her to a life without heroin, she’d choose the street. Two didn’t think Molly would understand it though, and wasn’t sure that Molly would even read the note. It was a risk, but it was important. Methadone caused more problems than it solved.

  Two folded the note in half once, then again, and taped it shut. “Take this. Don’t read it. Just give it to Rhes. Trust me.”

  Molly looked concerned. “You sure about this, Two?”

  “Absolutely. Rhes is a sweet guy, and his girlfriend Sarah’s wonderful. You’re going to live with them, for a while at least. They’ve got a big black dog named Jake. He’s a sweetheart. You’ll love him.”

  “Where am I going to get a fix?”

  It hurt to lie to Molly, but there was no choice. Two looked into the girl’s eyes and did her best. “Rhes will take care of that. Do you trust me, Molly?”

  “Yes, Two.”

  “Good. Give me a hug and then get the hell out of here.”

  Molly embraced her again, and Two hugged back. She hoped to make it through the dark days ahead, but knew it was unlikely. Molly was redemption. Even if Two failed and Abraham destroyed her, Molly at least was safe.

  After a moment, they broke apart. Molly was crying again when she said goodbye, but she moved resolutely toward the door. At its edge, Two called to her.

  “Hey, Molly?”

  The girl turned around, cocked her head, raised her eyebrows. “Yeah?”

  “Do you still pray every night?”

  “I stopped. I didn’t think God was listening.”

  “Maybe he was.”

  “Maybe I’ll start again.”

  “Then do me a favor, Molly. Pray for me, okay?”

  * * *

  Two lit a cigarette and leaned back, lost in thought. It hurt, seeing Molly, but in that bittersweet way; as much pleasure as pain. Sam spoke up.

  “Seems like a nice kid.”

  Two nodded. “She is.”

  “There’s no fix waiting for her with this guy Rhes, is there?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Think she’ll make it through?”

  “God, I hope so.”

  “You forgot to tell her why she should pray for her.”

  Two gave Sam a bitter smile. “No. I didn’t forget.”

  Sam stood up, stretched, walked over to the desk and looked Two in the eyes. “He’s going to kill you, Two. I’m sorry, but this is crazy.”

  Two shook her head. “You can’t talk me out of it, Sam.”

  “Too bad. I’m not going to stop trying. Will you bring Tori?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will she fight him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What if he kills her too?”

  Two smacked her hand down on the table and looked up at Sam, eyes flaring. “Then he fucking kills us both. Tori’s probably better off anyway. That was the decision. That was the plan. Kill Tori, Kill Melissa, drop you in the city and run like hell. Abraham just fucked it up.”

  Sam took a step back, holding up her hands. “Okay, Two. I’m sorry. I know this is hard on you.”

  “No, we’re beyond that. This is the easiest thing in my life, Sam. I have no choice.”

  Sam shrugged. There were plenty of choices. Two had already made hers. Two dragged at her cigarette, blew smoke into the dark room, tried not to think about Theroen. She didn’t want to think of him until the next evening, until she was working herself up to a fever pitch of fury and hatred, ready to kill or be killed.

  “If I live through it, do you want me to find you?” She asked.

  “Hell yes.”

  “I don’t have an apartment. Give me your address and phone number. Maybe I’ll be in touch.”

  “Sure.” Sam scribbled the information down. Two stuck it in her back pocket and went back to staring out the window.

  “Thanks for staying, Sam.” She said finally.

  “It’s okay. I spent the time thinking up excuses to explain to my friends where the hell I’ve been.”

  Two laughed a bit at that. “I have no idea what I’ll tell mine, if I see them. I’m not sure I could even face them, after all the shit I’ve lied to them about since I met Darren.”

  “I’m sure they’d forgive you.”

  “Yeah. Can I forgive myself? Don’t know. Probably doesn’t matter. Like you said... he’s going to kill me.”

  “Yes. But... What happens if you win?”

  “Honestly, Sam? I don’t think there’s much point in worrying about what will happen if I win.”

  “Are there other vampires?”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “Will they come after you?”

  Two smiled. “Get out of here, Sam. Go home. Stop thinking about it. You’re practically human. I can hear it in your voice. Another night, and this will all seem like some bizarre dream.”

  “Yeah. Okay. Can’t say it was nice meeting you, Two... things were too fucked up to call any of it ‘nice,’ but I’m glad I know you. If that means anything.”

  “It means a lot.”

  Sam looked around. “I’m glad to leave. I don’t know how you stood this place for so long.”

  “It’s easier if you’re high all the time.”

  Samantha headed for the door. When she reached it, she turned. “Two?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Goodbye. Good luck.”

  Two looked over at her, and smiled again. “Bye, Sam. Thanks.”

  Samantha waved, turned, and disappeared through the door. Two sat, Tori dozing behind her, and watched as smoke curled up into the darkness, lost in thought, lost in her plans for revenge.

  * * *

  Midnight shopping was easier in New York than anywhere else in the world, and Two had little trouble finding the supplies she needed. Darren’s gun, bullets to complement it. A machete, purchased at a hardware store. Even a few wooden stakes, although seeing them sitting in the car truly drove home how futile it all was. Wooden stakes? For Abraham?

  Two drove from spot to spot, trying not to think about it, picking up things she thought she might need. Tori amused herself by playing with the various lit switches and dials inside the car. Eventually the incessant noise of the radio flipping from station to station faded into the background.

  She and Tori fed on a homeless man under a bridge somewhere in Brooklyn, but Two found her thirst waning early. It was starting: she was becoming human again.

  They left the city around four in the morning, heading toward Binghamton. There she found a motel. When the coming sun forced her into sleep
, Two was glad for it. She was ready for the end.

  * * *

  The drive was miserable, the walk worse. They ditched the car a few miles from the mansion, and made their way toward the house in a downpour that wanted to be snow, couldn’t quite manage it, and settled for sleet instead. Two smoked, walked, saying nothing. The gun was jammed into the waistband of her pants. The machete hung in a sheath from her belt. She hadn’t even bothered to bring the stakes.

  Two walked. Tori stumbled along behind her, insisting on walking but occasionally dropping to all fours to catch up.

  The mansion emerged from the surrounding trees like a horror-movie haunted house. Huge, dark, lurking like a thing alive. It seemed as if the evil of its owner, held back perhaps by Theroen’s presence, had engulfed it. She found herself losing her resolve. Did she really want to be here? Surely this was madness. Hopeless. The fear pressed on her, taunting and shoving, trying to force her back to the car and away from the mansion. Two fought against it.

  She thought of Theroen, and forced herself for the first time since his death to acknowledge that he was gone. Theroen was gone, never coming back, and she would have to live without him. She thought of all of the things they had meant to do together, of the time they had planned to spend, and it seemed her heart would break.

  “God. That hurts so fucking bad.”

  The hurt brought anger. The anger brought hate, and Two looked up at the mansion with loathing in her eyes. Abraham was up there, somewhere. He wouldn’t know that she had returned. There might be some chance for surprise, some possibility of success.

  “Coming for you, Abraham. Going to cut out your heart, eat it in front of you, and then set you on fire.”

  Two snarled up at the mansion, and again moved forward.