by Sloan Archer
“Okay.” I wished he’d move things along.
“There is one bond, Mercy, that will never dissolve between a vampire and his creator. Do you know what that bond is?”
I sighed despairingly, on the verge of hyperventilating. “I have no idea, Leopold.”
“Death, Mercy. A creator will always know when their vampire child passes—Robert being my child in this case. It is a feeling like no other.”
“Right.”
“Tonight, Mercy, I had that feeling. It’s the reason I called.” He paused. “When did you say his fangs fell out?”
“Right before you called,” I answered.
“And he doesn’t appear to be passing?”
“Passing? As in dying?”
“Yes.”
I glanced over at Robert, who had the blood cleaned from his face thanks to Liz, the angel. He was flustered, like he couldn’t fathom why all the fuss was being made. He looked healthy and he seemed to have regained his sanity. Compared to his regular pallid complexion, he skin was clear and pink. He’d stopped sweating. His eyes had changed the most; the ethereal silver tone was missing. Now they were brilliant sky blue.
In a pool of blood on the nightstand sat his fangs.
“Leopold, he is very much alive.” I turned away so Robert and Liz couldn’t hear me. “As crazy as it sounds, I’m fairly sure that Robert has become human again. But how is that possible?”
“I couldn’t tell you,” Leopold said. “But I do know this, Mercy: When a vampire dies, the only thing that remains of them is their fangs.”
“Yes, I know,” I said. “But that doesn’t make sense . . . How is Robert still alive when his fangs are sitting on the nightstand? Does that mean that Robert died as a vampire and has been reborn a human? More importantly, what would cause this to happen?”
“I’m at a complete loss, Mercy,” Leopold quietly admitted. “I’m sorry that I can’t provide you with a more of an answer.”
I asked, “Have you heard of anything like this happening?”
“Never. If a vampire’s fangs fall from their skull, it’s usually because they’ve died.”
I looked at Robert, who was staring questioningly towards the phone.
I lowered my voice. “Okay, so what should I do? Robert seems okay now, but who knows how long that will last. What if the symptoms return? I’m a little out of my realm here.”
“I could fly out to you.”
“You could?”
“Yes,” Leopold confirmed. “If you will have me, I can stay with you and Robert. Then we can put our heads together and try to figure out why this has happened.”
“Yes, we’ll have you! I need all the help I can get,” I whispered. “I have a feeling that this isn’t over.”
“I do, too, Mercy. I do, too.”
“When can you come?” I hoped he was going to tell me that he was already on his way. Wishful thinking.
“I have a few lose ends to tie up here in London, but it should not take more than a day. I’ll leave as soon as I possibly can. Try not to fret too much. We’ll get this all sorted.”
“Thanks, Leopold. I really appreciate it. Will you need to schedule your flight around the sun being down?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure how that would be possible. Most commercial flights from England would be in the air at least part of the time when the sun was out.
“No, I have my own jet,” he said, like it was obvious.
Of course he did. “Okay, then. I guess I’ll be seeing you in the next couple of days.”
Leopold and I made end of the conversation pleasantries and then hung up. I turned back to Liz and Robert. Robert was on his feet, pulling on a bathrobe. Blood was crusted down the front of his chest and pajama bottoms. If he had a chainsaw slung over his shoulder he’d look at home on the cover of a horror film DVD.
“Robert, what are you doing?” I demanded.
“I’m taking a shower,” he said informally. “Who was that on the phone?”
His casualness was worrying. He was calm—too calm. I regarded Liz, who looked as overwhelmed as I felt. When his back was to her, she mouthed I don’t know!?
“That was Leopold. He’s coming out for a visit.”
“Good. You’ll finally get to meet him,” Robert said, and then he waltzed into the bathroom.
When the bathroom door closed, Liz whispered, “What the hell, Mercy? He’s acting like everything is peachy keen.” She pointed at the nightstand. “His fangs are sitting right there. His fangs! I have his blood all over me! Vampires aren’t designed to bleed!”
I went to the nightstand and swept the two white nubs into my hand, being careful not to prick my skin with their tips. “I’m just going to put these away for safe keeping.” I opened the top drawer on my dresser and tucked Robert’s teeth into a small jewelry box I kept there. “He seems to have forgotten all about losing these.”
Liz nodded. “I don’t think he’s better yet. If I lost my fangs, I’d be screaming my head off.”
“I’m going to make Robert get back into bed after he gets out of the shower.”
“Do you think he’s in denial?” Liz asked.
“Denial of what? I have no idea what’s going on!” I could hear my voice rising. “One minute we were talking about going to the theatre, the next I’m talking to Robert’s creator in England about Robert turning into a human.”
“No!” Liz screeched. “You don’t . . . You think Robert is human? That can’t be!”
“Uh, have you been witnessing the same things as me?”
“Still, though. Human? That’s nuts.”
“Liz, I don’t know what to think. But Leopold also thinks this might be the case, on account of Robert’s fangs falling out. And, well, look at him. He even appears human.”
“How crazy would that be?” The shower turned off in the bathroom and Liz offered, “You want me to go before he gets out? It might be easier to coax him back into to bed if I’m gone.”
“That might be best.”
Liz gave me a quick peck on the cheek. “Hang in there. It will all work itself out.”
“Hope so. And thank you so much for all your help. You’re a lifesaver, Liz.”
“Anytime,” she smiled. “What are best friends for?”
Liz was gone when Robert emerged from the bathroom, smelling of soap and his signature scent, manliness. It took some convincing to get him back into bed, but he eventually acquiesced. I went into the living room so Robert could have the bed all to himself. With Leopold flying out, I felt I had at least some handle on the situation—not much, but some was better than none.
I sat back on the sofa, pulled the cashmere throw from the arm, and wrapped it over my body. I felt ashamed for relaxing, wrapped up in a soft blanket next to the fire, with the events of the night lingering. But I figured that there wasn’t much else I could do. I was exhausted, both mentally and physically (helping Robert into bed had really taken it out of me). But the physical exhaustion I could cope with. It was the fear that was hard to handle.
I closed my eyes and inhaled the smoky-sweet scent of the fire. It was a lush aroma, eucalyptus mixed with cedar. I took in another few deep breaths, holding each for four seconds before exhaling—an old psychology trick used for combating anxiety. It worked better than Valium. With the fire, the blanket, and the breathing, my mind and body were compelled to relax, to let go. The questions soon started to fade: What if Robert never got better? What if he was losing his mind? What if Leopold didn’t like me? What if I didn’t like Leopold? What if Leopold couldn’t help Robert? What if . . . What if . . . What if . . . ?
I woke with side of my cheek stinging. Puzzled, I sat up, boiling. My shirt clung to my back unpleasantly, damp and stifling. Though still warm, the fire had burned down to a few flickering embers. Through the large bay windows that overlooked the ocean, I could see that it was dawn. I must have slept through the night.
Robert was standing above me.
Screaming, I leap
t up from the sofa and desperately struggled to cover him with the blanket. “No! Robert! You’re going to burst into flames!”
Robert took me by the shoulders. “I’m fine, Mercy.”
“Are you back to normal?” I studied his face. “With it, uh, mentally?”
“I’ve never been so clear,” he said.
He stretched a hand out gingerly towards the beam of sunlight shining through the windows. He stuck his index finger into the light and waited, holding his breath. He was breathing!
“Careful, Robert!”
Nothing happened.
Nothing happened, either, when Robert moved the rest of his hand into the light, and then his whole arm. Before I could stop him, he charged toward the balcony and flung open the glass doors.
He looked back at me with a wistful smile. “Here we go.”
Robert stepped into the morning sunshine.
Golden light enveloped him. I let out a sigh of relief when I saw that it wasn’t the glow of fire. He was okay, no smoke or sparks in sight. His threw back his head and I yelped when he started trembling all over. Then I realized that he was laughing.
“Mercy! Can you believe it?” He spun around like a child. “I have not seen the sun in over a hundred and fifty years! Look! I’m in the sun!”
He rushed forward and scooped me up in his arms. When I looked into his face, I saw that he was weeping.
“How does it feel?”
“Amazing!” He put me down and dried his eyes.
“I’m so happy for you, honey.” I kissed him hard on the mouth.
When we finally broke away, he said, “Okay, I can imagine one better feeling.” A solid lump pressed against my hip—stiffness. It appeared that the sun wasn’t the only thing that had come up.
Without another word, we were tearing off each other’s clothes, right there on the balcony. With the house being on a cliff, we didn’t have neighbors to worry about seeing us naked. Soon Robert was on top of me, his white skin painted bronze by the sun he’d been deprived of for so long. He peppered my face with kisses that maddened me—I wanted him now. When his mouth met my ear, I tilted my head out of habit so he could drink from my neck.
“Can’t,” he breathed with raggedness. “I lost my fangs.”
“But you gained the sun . . .”
Sensing my trepidation, he asked, “What is it?”
I didn’t want to ruin the moment but I felt like I should bring it up. “What if you suddenly stop being immune to daylight?”
He twinkled in that special sexy way of his, raising one eyebrow and gently nipping my ear. “Then I’ll die a very happy man.”
We didn’t bother with foreplay, our desire to unite much too urgent. I cried out as he pushed himself into the center of my thighs, entering me slowly at first, and then faster, harder . . . ravenously.
And we were off.
As it turned out, sex with human Robert was just as amazing as sex with vampire Robert. Maybe even better, actually, since he was warmer to the touch and had a heartbeat.
We basked naked in the sun afterward, and a few questions struck me. I decided to pace myself, saving the most important for last.
“Does it feel different as a human?” I asked.
“Making love?”
“Yes.”
He sat up on an elbow. “This may shock you, Mercy, but I wasn’t a virgin when I was turned.”
I punched him lazily in the arm. “I know that! But it’s been so long . . .”
He thought about it for a moment. “The real difference is that I now get tired. As a vampire, I can keep going and going, which you know.”
“I sure do.” I winked at him. “But this way is nice, too. What do you feel now? Physically, I mean?”
“I’m no longer ill, and I have my wits about me again. But I do feel drained. What I feel most of all is . . .” He rubbed his belly. “I feel hungry.”
“For blood?”
He made a face. “No!”
“Then for what?”
“Do you remember that place you took me to on the first night we went out? That café in the train car?”
Of course I did. I was the greasy spoon diner where I fell in love with Robert. I chuckled. “You aren’t serious.”
He sucked in his bottom lip, abashed.
I said, “You want to go to Whistle Stop for your first meal in over a hundred and fifty years?”
He nodded.
“You sure you don’t want something more . . . fancy? Sushi or a hundred dollar steak or, I don’t know, gazpacho or whatever rich people eat?” I didn’t know what a rich person ate, as I’d never been one. I’d been raised on Velveeta and Hamburger Helper. But I’d dined at Whistle Stop plenty, as it had been my eatery of choice back when I was a student at Dewhurst. I could have probably recited the entire menu from memory.
“No way,” he asserted. “Remember, I wasn’t a wealthy man when I was changed over. I’ve never sampled ‘rich people’ human food. What I want is one of those frightening omelets—the one with all that stuff heaped on top.”
“The Scary Coronary Omelet? The one with the hash browns and hollandaise sauce and bacon?”
He grinned, “That’s the one!”
I poked him in his rock-hard midsection and chided, “You know, Robert, you’re going to have to worry about things like your heart now that you’re a human. And your weight. And your blood pressure.”
He smiled, giddy. “Being human is a dangerous thing.”
Something far more sinister than high blood pressure occurred to me. “Maybe it would be wise for us not to stray too far from home. At least for a little while.”
“Why?”
“If your vulnerability to the sun comes back, I’d rather it not be while we’re at the beach or on a roller coaster with no cover close by.”
He frowned. “I suppose you’re right.”
I figured now was as good of time as any to broach the formidable question I’d been saving. “Robert?”
“Yes, my darling?”
“Do you plan on staying this way?”
He didn’t play dumb. He knew which way I was referring to. I loved that about Robert: no bullshit. “Vampire is the only way I know how to be, Mercy.”
“That’s not true. You were a human once,” I said mildly.
He was quiet for a moment. “Do you wish for me remain human?”
“I want you to be happy.” It was the most truthful way I could answer.
“I was happy as a vampire.”
“I see.”
“Will you leave me if I don’t agree to remain human?” he asked, worried.
“Of course not!” I breathed. “I love you, Robert. It’s just that you were so happy about being in the light and talking about eating human food. I’d hoped . . .”
“I enjoy my life as an immortal—having eternal youth.”
“Why do you think you’ve turned back into a mortal?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea why this has happened. Perhaps my body is like an automobile, and I now need a tune-up.”
That was a strange way to put it, but I grasped what he meant. “The tune-up being that you need to be changed over again by a vampire?”
“Yes.” He lifted my chin. “You’re upset with me?”
“No. Some part of me knew that you’d want to go back to being a vampire. You just seem so excited about your new human capabilities.”
“I am. However—”
“However, the benefits of being vampire outweigh the fun of being a human,” I finished for him.
“If you want to look at it like that, sure,” he stated. “But perhaps knowing that I have the option to remain human and yet I’m choosing to change back is evidence of just how splendid it is to be immortal.”
“I guess so,” I said. “It must be pretty great if you don’t even need to mull it over.”
“Mercy, you’re fearful of becoming a vampire, yes?”
“Yes, you know that,” I answered.<
br />
“I do. But that fear you feel towards becoming a vampire? That’s how frightened I am of remaining human.”
“You’re afraid that you won’t be able to change back?”
Robert seemed reluctant to say the words out loud, as if vocalizing his concerns made the possibility real. “Perhaps I’m stuck as a human.”
I put my hand over his. “I’m sure Leopold will have some answers.”
“Do you sincerely believe that he will?”
“Sure.” I kissed his forehead. “Are you going to ask Leopold to change you back?”
“I haven’t thought about it. I imagine that would be the best course of action.”
“But I think he’s coming out for less than a week.”
“Okay?”
“So . . .” I began, unsure of how to phrase my next words without sounding disappointed. “If he has to change you back before to retuning to London, that means you’re going to be human for only a few days.”
“Ah,” he said, catching my drift. “Will you understand if become vampire before he leaves? Since we don’t know why I transformed—this illness—I’m nervous that if I wait too long I may not be able to ever change back.”
Though I cringed inwardly that he’d compared humanity to illness, I said, “I understand completely.”
“Thank you, my sweet. I do love you so very much.”
“And I love you,” I said as we made a move back into the house. “If you’re going to be this way for only a short time, we need to get cracking on your human vacation.”
He chuckled. “Human vacation. I like that.”
4
Marlena came over the next evening.
She arrived unannounced, which was not like her. Marlena was the appointment queen.
I was hoping that it was Leopold who’d come knocking instead. According to Robert, Leopold was not the appointment king. I’d been warned that Leopold could show at any time, even though he’d promised that he’d call when he was on his way.
Until Robert had a full handle on his health situation, he didn’t want word of his newfound humanity getting out. Marlena was no blabbermouth, as proven by her successful management of Dignitary, but Robert’s secret wasn’t mine to reveal. I could relate to this perfectly, given that I had secrets of my own.
