Liliana rose to her feet and slowly glided down to the scene of the feast. The leader spotted her and howled. Each in turn howled and made vicious hand movements in her direction, but never moved away from their meal. Gradually they returned to their sucking and munching, and only occasionally would a pair of wary and mindless eyes look at her. They all had the eyes of frightened animals. All were ugly, fangs grown disproportionately long, lips partially chewed. The faces were discolored and blotched with singes from the sun. Hair was matted with the decaying flesh of their prey, nails uneven and bent, fingers like stalks of wilted wheat. Most wore shredded rags, some hovered over the corpse naked.
"Can you understand me?" Liliana called out, praying no one would answer. She moved closer, but the frenzy had become such that they no longer took any notice of her. "My name is Liliana," she said, surprising herself with the calmness of her voice.
She had to stop. Her stomach roiled. Their breath seemed hideously foul and oppressive in the summer's night heat.
The fangs worked as a hindrance, piercing veins way past the necessary prick. The tongues lapped at the rivers of blood spreading across the corpse. One held a torn-off breast, sucking the flesh between its mangled lips, forcing its tongue deep inside the hollow it had dug.
Some squeezed portions of the body over their mouths, catching drops deep inside their throats. Gobs of flesh were swallowed with the liquid.
Cannibals, she thought. But what was she? Actually, as an embalmer she stole from the grave robbers. What did they do when formaldehyde instead of rich blood squirted into their mouths?
Mesmerized, Liliana waited. She watched. The sex of each diner could be determined by the shape of the body. The faces no longer differentiated one from the other. Gentleness and strength had been leached from their features. Even facial definition blurred in the mass of sucking and chewing.
But she watched. To learn about her kind. They were all vampires. The family of vampires. They dramatically depicted the ancient peasant stories of what vampires were. Not romantic, sophisticated lovers, as her uncle portrayed himself. How had the line been drawn? And who were the freaks? The pack before her? Or the evolved lineage of her uncle? Or did it all eventually come down to the scene in front of her?
She envisioned her uncle howling and commanding even in dementia.
Like dogs burying bones, the pack gathered the waste and brushed it back into the grave. Rapidly they returned the soil to the site and stomped the muddied soil tightly into the grave.
A single member of the pack made a movement toward her. She faced the thing full-on and drove it back a step. It could smell the blood inside her veins. They all could. The pack waited for the member who dared to step back into Liliana's reach. It scowled and hissed and moved in jittery motions. Its hunger had not been sated. When Liliana put her hand out to it, immediately it tried to gnash its fangs into it. But her speed exceeded the mutant's.
The leader, tiring of the pathetic display, led the others back to the old section of the cemetery. Feeling alone and unsure of itself, the last mutant followed behind the pack.
Chapter 34
In the morning Marie cancelled her clients' appointments. There were few clients now. She guessed it was because of her behavior, edgy and pre-occupied. Only Garrett seemed to be turned on by her indifference. But her work demeanor would change after today. She would see to it before noon.
She had chosen blatantly suggestive attire: a black lace bustier and a black half-slip that she used as a skirt. She had eliminated a layer of clothing. The spiked-heeled shoes had straps that wrapped around her ankles several times, and the hose shadowed her still-shapely legs in opaque black.
He thinks that I can't portray the sub, does he. She buckled a simple leather collar around her neck, its only decoration a chrome ring meant for attaching a leash. On her eyes she had used kohl. Her red lips bled redder than blood onto the blotting tissue. Her cheeks were dusted a pinkish-red that only really seemed to work on teens.
Marie couldn't decide whether she looked like a Siren or like 'Whatever Happened to Baby Jane.' But she had tried everything else. All that she could hope was that the harsh sun would spend the morning behind the growing clouds.
She wore no jewelry. Marie slipped on her Nikon aviator sunglasses and topped herself off with a broad-brimmed Panama hat. She threw a large leather satchel over her left shoulder, lifted her house keys from the hall table, and left her home.
On the drive to Keith's she tried to decide how to approach the two men. Keith didn't trust her, and Wil played his game.
Wondering whether the two men were late sleepers, Marie pulled into their driveway. No signs of life, but, as she knew, that didn't prove life wasn't there.
As she climbed the steps to the porch, she listened intently. Soft noises came from the house. At least one person was at home.
The rap on the door received no reply. She moved to the right and peeked into a window. Only shadows were visible, and they weren't moving. A tap on the pane of glass drew the angry-looking Keith to the window. He made motions indicating that she should go away. She wouldn't.
The door opened and Wil stepped out on the porch.
"What are you done up for?" he asked.
"I wanted to prove that I could handle both sides." She drew a leather leash from her satchel and attached the end to the collar around her neck. When she handed the leash to Wil, he took it and gave it a powerful yank. Quickly Marie moved toward him.
"You mean serious business, don't you, lady?"
"I know what I want."
"Me? But you don't know what you're getting."
Marie ran her tongue across her lips.
"I'm in it for the surprise." Marie considered how unusual that statement sounded.
"Somehow I think you expect to surprise me." He yanked her closer. "It won't be easy. Meeting my requirements, that is."
How right you are, she thought.
"What the hell is that?" Keith appeared at the door.
"This is a leash, Dad."
"Give her back her leash and tell her to go home, Wilbur."
"Aw, can't I keep her?"
"She's not properly house trained."
"But that'll be my job. I promise to feed and chastise her if she breaks any rules. Please, Dad?"
"She's dressed like a..."
"Sub. A subordinate."
"None of that stuff will go on in my home."
"Can I play over at her house, then?"
"No, Wilbur. Now get her the hell off the property."
"I guess that means I can't come out and play today."
Wil rolled the leash into a ball and shoved it down the front of her bustier. He clapped his hands.
"Go home now, girl. Go home."
A test, she knew, but a hard one to pass. Marie managed to nod her head and descend the steps.
"And don't you be hanging around here, girl. I know where to find you if I yearn to play games."
Her gut clenched and a sour taste filled her mouth, but she walked to the car and got in.
"If you're a good girl, I might bring over a bone for you to suck on."
She had cancelled all her clients for the day. She needed something to relieve the tension. She looked up at the porch and saw Keith pulling his son back into the house.
You old bastard!
* * *
"I'm scared. You have to help me. He never listens to me, but maybe you could talk your granny into leaving my son alone."
Liliana had let Keith into her home fifteen minutes before and still hadn't had a chance to speak.
"Wil is warped, I'd admit that. But your grandma, no offense, is psycho."
"This is enough, Mr. Bridgewater. All you've done is denigrate my grandmother since you got here. Your son is a grown man and my grandmother is a mature woman. They make these kinds of decisions for themselves."
"No, he can't. He always had very little self-control. That's why I was always trying to save him fro
m disasters."
"Maybe your tendency to control his life is what drives him into bad situations. Leave him alone. Up until now you haven't been able to save him. Give it up. He's not a small boy anymore."
"You don't understand. Your granny weaved a spell around him. They're playing a game of tag, and your granny is sure to win."
"Mr. Bridgewater, my grandmother is not a witch. She doesn't wear silly pointed hats, she doesn't have a big hook nose, she doesn't boil up any specialties in a pot. You tried her food, you should know that. She doesn't even own a pet to use as a familiar."
"You should have seen her in the hat she had on today. It wasn't pointy; she looked more like a floozy."
"I can't believe I'm sitting here listening to a distant neighbor recite a litany of names to call my grandmother."
She did because she knew Mr. Bridgewater was right. Her grandmother would win, and perhaps at an awful price.
"I don't know what will happen to Wilbur," pleaded Keith.
Liliana remembered the scene in the cemetery the night before. Not all vampires were made whole. Not only did they lose their souls' blessed graces, but sometimes their minds.
"You're not even listening to me."
"None of my family should be here, Mr. Bridgewater."
"Shit, I don't care about you and your uncle. At least you two mind your own business and don't bother anyone. Your grandma, on the other hand, starts up trouble wherever she is."
"Mr. Bridgewater, you took me to the cemetery the other day to see Emmeline. Remember?"
"Sure, and I told you she is the reason why I have to protect our son."
"Yes, but you also said that if she rose from the grave and asked you to join her as a vampire, you would agree. Would you really agree?"
Keith sat silently for a few moments.
"You'd really have to think about it, wouldn't you?"
"I'd do anything to have Emmeline back and anything to save our boy."
"Are there no boundaries?"
"When it comes to family, there shouldn't be."
"Grandmother's my family."
"She looked tawdry and dirty this morning. An old matron dressed like a slutty teenage prostitute. Maybe you should think about getting help for your grandma before someone is forced to stop her."
"Are you threatening my grandmother?"
"She threatens my son."
Keith stood. At the same moment Sade walked into the room.
"A guest. Ma chère, you never told me we had company in our parlor."
"Keith Bridgewater, sir." He even extended his hand.
Great, thought Liliana, he's going to try to enlist Uncle's help.
Sade took Keith's hand briefly. Liliana was sure Mr. Bridgewater was not the kind with whom her uncle cared to associate. Too peasant-like, he would say. However, if he saw a use for the peasant, he could pretend great friendship.
"I'm here about your... mother?" Keith looked at Liliana.
"Mother-in-law," corrected Liliana.
"Is Marie causing problems, monsieur?"
"Yes, she's after my son. She's trying to seduce him."
"How old is your fils?"
"Huh?"
"Son," Liliana translated.
"Twenty-seven. Way too young for a mature woman like her."
"You are so right, monsieur. She has centuries on him."
Warily Keith looked at Sade. "I'm serious, sir."
"I too. But what can I do?"
"If you have any influence over her, maybe you could speak to her."
"I assure you, monsieur, that my influence is limited. But I will certainly think on it, for she has become a bit too assertive."
"She's always been assertive, Uncle."
"To family, ma chère. Now she is out bothering un étranger."
Keith immediately looked at Liliana.
"A stranger," she explained.
"Yes, exactly. Why, she came over to my house and began chatting as if we were old friends. She forced her way into my and my son's lives."
"Mr. Bridgewater, I don't think that's completely accurate."
"Hush, ma chère. Let us not antagonize a good neighbor and turn this thing into a petty brawl.
"We know that Marie can be difficult, monsieur, and will try to temper her behavior toward your family."
"Thank you, sir. You're the salt of the earth." Keith gently punched Sade's left arm.
Chapter 35
Marie had gone home and changed clothes. Quickly she had washed her face, not bothering to reapply any make-up. Now, in town, she felt lost. She needed an outlet for her peevish anger, but she also had to practice caution.
She marched the streets looking for a victim. Too close to home, she knew, but her driving had become too chaotic to travel any further.
Women lunched in the old-fashioned ice-cream parlor. Businessmen grabbed hamburgers at the local bar. But everyone seemed to be in groups today. She needed someone alone. Someone preferably who was a stranger.
Children balked at their mothers' reprimands. Pets waited patiently for their masters in the hot sun.
Her gut tightened. Wait patiently. If that old man hadn't been around, I wouldn't have to stalk in broad daylight.
Soon she realized she had stopped seeing the people passing by. Instead she squinted into her own thoughts, blindly making her way from one end of town to the other.
Suddenly a German shepherd in a two-or three-year-old Jeep took to barking. She turned to curse the dog and stopped in her tracks when she saw who was causing the animal to bark. Wil stood just beyond the Jeep, trying to get the dog to hush up.
Could she be lucky? She had paid her dues recently. It was owed to her. Ducking her head, Marie walked away from Wil. She had a visit to make.
Just as Marie arrived at the Bridgewater home, Keith pulled up in the car. He got out, leaving the motor on and slamming the door.
"Get the hell off my property, hag."
"But I thought we were the best of friends, dear," Marie called from the inside of her car.
Keith went up to the driver's side of her car and smashed his fist into the back window. Web-like splinters stretched across the pane.
Marie opened the door, ramming the metal into the old man's stomach. Keith doubled over and stepped back.
"Keith, how rude you've become."
Keith caught his breath in a gasp.
"Damn, woman, I just want you gone."
"I've tried to be a good neighbor. Stopped by to see how you were. Invited you and your son to dinner. Even shamed myself in the supermarket by buying that dreadful beer instead of spending my money on a decent bottle of wine. Introduced you to my granddaughter. Shared special moments with you. Such as when I had your son at my feet and pulled back his head by the hair."
"And told him to come back 'without the old fart'."
"You do remember. I never thought you stupid, Keith, just absurd in your belief that you had to be the Father Protector of your son. Especially since you've done such a poor job so far."
"Why the hell are you here? To tantalize me?"
"No."
"Well, my son isn't here, and I don't want any blow job from you."
Marie struck out, dragging her long fingernails across Keith's cheek.
"Shit!" As he spoke he sprayed saliva into the air.
Three of her nails were clotted with his flesh, and she turned her palm up so that he could see, then she licked and chewed the skin free of the nails.
Keith's feet stumbled backward, encumbered by old, heavy work boots.
"Listen, I've never hurt any woman, but you come at me again, and I'm going to defend myself."
She watched the blood slide down his cheek. He raised his hand to his face to feel what she was looking at. The wounds must have burned, because she saw him wince when his fingers came into contact with his cheek. She took a step toward him.
"I'm a lot bigger than you. What, you about an even five feet? I've got a good head over you. I could
seriously hurt you, and I don't want to do that. Just go back to your car and get off my property."
She shook her head and extended her right hand. Keith tried to bat the hand away, but it was immovable. Suddenly her nails were ripping across his throat. Again her fingernails were clotted with his flesh.
"Want a taste?" she asked.
"What the hell are you?"
"Taste your flesh, old man." She moved in closer.
Keith's body hit the side of his car.
"You're a real nut job."
"Taste," she whispered.
He tried to run by her, but she lunged and grabbed the back of his head, squeezing the lower part of his skull until she brought him to his knees.
"Have a headache, Keith? Pop any arteries?"
Keith's face was red. His breaths came in pants, but he tried to speak. The only sound he could make was a mewling noise. She slammed his face against the side of his car and bit into the back of his skull, cracking bone to reach the brain. Her tongue darted into the folds, lapping out a small portion of the brain. His body shivered in her arms.
"I'll not kill you, Keith. Alive, you can watch me take your son. Your greatest fear." Marie rolled the old man onto his back and peered into his eyes. "I can never tell how disabled a person is. Somehow, though, I still see intelligence in those watery eyes. Speak, Keith, speak." Marie flicked an index finger across his lips. "Speak. Try." She lowered her ear to his lips. Nothing but a gurgling sound. "Can you protest anymore? Can you interfere again?" She raised her head and looked into his wide eyes. "Scared?" She allowed his head to slide from her hands and hit the ground.
Marie drank sparingly of his blood and shared only enough of her own to keep Keith in the limbo between death and vampirism.
Using a portion of his T-shirt, Marie wiped the blood from her lips.
"Now you will not die. Of course, you will not have much of a life, either. You will be a vegetable and be cared for as I care for my pretty delicate flowers."
Chapter 36
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