Dark Corner

by Brandon Massey

  He looked away from the window.

  Nia rose out of her chair.

  "Pearl, can I use your bathroom?" Nia said. "I need to clean myself up ""

  Pearl turned, her hands hovering over Jackson's chest. "Of course. You will find towels in the cabinet underneath the sink." Her dark eyes went to David. "Make yourselves at home, there is some tea I've already brewed in the kitchen, and food if you are hungry. I will be treating Chief Jackson for quite some time."

  "Thank you," David said. "Jahlil, can I get you anything?"

  "No," he said quickly. "I'm staying in here"

  That kid is tough, but he's held together with thin wire right now, David thought. He wished he could do something, but there was nothing he could do. All he could do was pre pare himself to step in and be a friend for Jahlil, like he had promised Jackson that he would.

  Jackson's features were slack and peaceful. Gone was the melancholy expression that habitually dragged down the police chief's face, making him look twenty years older. But David found the man's placid visage disturbing.

  He looked like a dead man on display in a coffin.

  Chapter 22

  t Emma Mae's, the party was in high gear.

  .After Emma's announcement at the town meeting, people had begun showing up at her place around eight o'clock. By eleven-thirty, cars and pickup trucks crowded the street, parked bumper-to-bumper for the entire block. Her house was full of loud, carefree people who knew how to have fun. Playing Bid Whist and poker. Eating ribs, chicken, and corn on the cob. Drinking beer and Hennessy. Telling stories and talking shit.

  The thunderstorm had knocked out the electrical power, but Emma was prepared for that; candles and kerosene lamps burned in every room downstairs. She had batteries for the boom box, so she could play hits nonstop by Bobbie Blue Bland, Wilson Pickett, and B.B. King. She'd flung up the garage door and set up the big barbecue grill on the edge of the garage floor, fragrant smoke blowing into the air as she served up a seemingly endless supply of ribs and chicken.

  No one was going to stop her from partying. Least of all some vampires. Who believed in those damn things, anyway? She'd believe it when she saw one with her own eyes.

  Lillie, of course, believed that nonsense. As Emma stood at the kitchen counter, brushing her special barbecue sauce on another steaming slab of ribs, she looked out the window and saw the glow of Lillie's cigarette as her sister hid behind the curtain at her home next door. Spying on Emma, as usual. Emma sneered. If the old heifer was so curious about what was going on, she should've brought her skinny ass over here.

  You better take Blood to the hospital, you old fool, Lillie had said after the town meeting. I know you lying about him having a hangover; I heard that man got bit by one of them demon dogs ...

  Emma had told Lillie that she didn't know what the hell she was talking about and she needed to mind her own business. But inwardly, she worried. Blood was still asleep. That man had never slept through a party in his life, but she couldn't wake him for anything. He would only groan and shift on the bed. He was running a bit of a fever. She had put a cold towel on his forehead, to try to break the fever, and it didn't seem to help. She was really beginning to worry, but she wasn't going to take him to the hospital so they could pump him full of drugs and do government experiments on him like he was some kinda lab rat. She didn't trust the hospital in town, not after what had been said at the meeting.

  If Blood wasn't better by morning, she would take him to a hospital in Southaven. In the meantime, she would continue to check on him every hour. It was, in fact, about time she looked in on him again.

  She finished slathering sauce on the ribs, then placed the meat in a foil-lined pan. She took the pan to the serving table in the corner of the kitchen. Elmer Jackson, the police chief's cousin, and Buster Hodges, the daddy of Junior, the kid who cut her grass, hunched over the table, piling food on their plates.

  "Where's your boy, Buster?" Emma said. "I ain't seen him here tonight."

  "Don't know where that kid at," Buster said. "Probably out working. You know that boy ain't happy 'less he working somewhere ""

  "Ain't that the truth," Elmer said. "Boy been saving up to buy a truck from me. He came by the lot and told me to save him that black ninety-eight Ford pickup I done had for a few months. Said he was gonna buy it."

  "He ain't gonna buy shit," Buster said. "That boy got pipe dreams, like his mama did."

  "Aww, let the boy have his dreams," Emma said. She set down the ribs on the table. "He's a sweet kid."

  Buster grumbled and stabbed a chicken thigh with his fork. Emma almost told him that his son wasn't the only one who'd had a dream once, but she let it go. Buster hated to be reminded of his pro boxing days. A couple of years ago, at another of her card parties, Elmer-never one to bite his tongue-had told Buster that he'd lost a hundred dollars betting on his sorry ass in a fight, and Buster had launched across the table and knocked Elmer on his tail with his fearsome right hook. Since then, Elmer had avoided coming within ten feet of Buster.

  But look at them now, Emma thought. The men were fellowshipping like true brothers, eating together. It proved that when things got too heavy to bear, there was nothing like an old-fashioned house party to set things right. A party was good for the soul.

  She went through the house, smiling to herself. All around her, folks were having a good time. On the boom box, Wilson Pickett crooned his signature song, "In the Midnight Hour."

  Earl Jones, a card-party regular, jumped up from his seat at the poker game as Emma walked past. Drunk as a skunk, he took her hand and twirled her around in a little dance.

  Emma giggled, feeling like a teenager again. That heifer, Lillie, didn't know what she was missing, staying cooped up in her house like the crazy old woman in the fairy tale who lived in a giant shoe. The only difference was that Lillie had that pissy weiner dog, Rex, instead of a bunch of cats.

  All the cats are gone outta this town, Lillie had said, earlier. Did you notice that, you old fool? All the cats are gonescared off by those demon dogs!

  Lillie and her superstitions. Emma didn't care about some damn alley cats.

  Earl stumbled in the middle of his jig, and Emma helped him sit down.

  "You better sit your tail down and get back to them cards," she said. "You can't hang with me, baby."

  "Don't mean I don't wanna try," Earl said. He flashed a lusty grin that was highlighted by a shiny gold tooth.

  "You better not let Blood hear you say that" She smiled. "I'm 'bout to bring him down here"

  "About time, wake that gimp-legged nigga up," Earl said. He expertly riffled his cards in his big hands. "I wanna get him at this table and clean out his pockets"

  "You hush," Emma said.

  Upstairs, the hallway was dark; Emma had not bothered to place a candle around the staircase since no one but her had any business going up there, and she had lived in the house for so long she could walk around blindfolded. But the blackness seemed especially thick and warm, shot through with glints of purple. Just her eyes playing tricks on her, she figured. But Lillie's superstitions rang through her mind.

  Those vampires are demons, Lillie had said. You believe in demons, don't you? If you believe in God, you gotta believe in the Devil, too, sister. Demons are the Devil's minions...

  "Ain't no such thing," Emma mumbled under her breath. She opened the door to the master bedroom.

  Inside the room, a candle on the nightstand cast flickering light.

  Blood sat on the edge of the bed, head lowered. He was bare-chested, and wore only his blue pajama bottoms. Curly gray hairs shone on his thin chest.

  "How long you been up, baby?" Emma said. She began to walk toward him, ready to check his temperature. "Let me take a look at you"

  When Blood raised his head and looked at her, she halted.

  An icy finger slid down her spine.

  Something was wrong with Blood. The wrongness was in his dark, red-rimmed eyes. Looking into those
eyes of his was like looking at a rattlesnake.

  Instinctively, she broke eye contact.

  "Come on over here, brown sugar," he said. His voice was raspy, but commanding. "I wanna hold your fine body in my arms"

  Blood called her "brown sugar" whenever he wanted to romance her, but there was nothing flirtatious about his manner, not this time. His jaw was tight. His fingers clenched and unclenched. He looked like a man who was ready to rumble, not make love.

  What was wrong with him? Had the fever cooked his brain into stew?

  Or was Lillie right?

  Emma took a step backward, the floorboard creaking beneath her.

  "Where you going, woman?" Blood rose. He moved with a silkiness that she had never seen from him, as though his bad leg were a thing of the past. "I want you to come to me"

  "What's ... what's wrong with you?" she said. She had to force out the words, her heart was pounding so hard.

  "Ain't a damn thing wrong with me, baby. I ain't never felt so good in my life." He laughed. "I wanna make you feel good like I do"

  Emma couldn't be sure because of the quivering light and shadows, but when he had opened his mouth to laugh, she thought she had seen long, sharp teeth. The kind of teeth a dog would have.

  Or a vampire.

  Lillie's know-it-all voice played in her mind: I told you the truth, you old fool. Why don't you ever listen to me?

  Blood spread his arms. "Come on over to me, brown sugar. Lemme make you feel good"

  Spinning around to run was so hard for Emma, it was like trying to move when submerged in water. The air itself seemed to push against her to keep her from getting out of there. But she broke out of the room and slammed the door behind her.

  The darkness in the hallway swallowed her. She was careless for not lighting a candle up here.

  On the other side of the door, the floorboards groaned. Blood was coming. There was no way to keep him from getting out. She couldn't lock the door from this side.

  But she had a houseful of people who could help her. Big, strong men like Buster. They could help her handle Blood, whatever was wrong with him.

  She ran across the hall, bumping into things. She flew down the steps so quickly she nearly tripped over her own feet.

  "Girl, what you running for?" Earl said. Cards in one hand, he tipped up his glass full of Hennessy, taking a long gulp. He burped, then chuckled. "You come back looking for a real man to handle you?"

  Emma opened her mouth to speak-and then she saw movement outside the living room windows.

  The curtains were peeled back, giving a view of the front yard. There was a gang of people out there. Folks with pale, grimy faces. Dressed in hospital gowns with dark stains across the front. They moved like wolves on the prowl, hunched over, muscles tensed and ready to pounce, intent on a single, deadly objective.

  Emma could not believe it. But it was right there in front of her face.

  Her buzz drained out of her like water slipping away in a tub.

  "Lock the doors!" Emma cried. "Everybody, we being attacked!"

  People gaped at her, their eyes glazed. Like she had stood up and shouted something in Japanese.

  "What the hell you talking 'bout, Emma?" a man said in a slurred voice. "You just drunk, old gal."

  To hell with waiting on these drunk fools, she thought. She hustled across the living room to lock the front door.

  The door exploded open. Emma stumbled backward. Cold wind and rain swooped inside, and two of those vam- pirelike things leapt onto the threshold, hissing, their fangs bared.

  Emma screamed and ran.

  All around the house, windows shattered as if from the force of a tremendous gale, but deep in her heart she knew it was no wind that was responsible. Those monsters had probably surrounded her house, and were breaking inside.

  With all the folks lounging around her place, coming here would be like a feast for those creatures.

  She itched to get her shotgun. But the one she wanted was in her bedroom closet. She couldn't go up there. Blood would be waiting.

  She raced into the kitchen. Windows were busted in there, too, and one of those creatures must have hurled itself through the hole-she saw one that looked as if it used to be a young woman. Hell, it looked kinda like Shenice Stevens, who'd won the town beauty pageant last year. But if it were really her, shit, she looked like a mess.

  The female monster had cornered Buster Hodges. Buster held up his massive fists in a boxer's stance, his face resolute. The creature darted toward him. Buster threw his famous right hook-and hit nothing but air. The vampire moved way too fast. It seized Buster's arm and bit into his meaty bicep. Buster cried out, and his legs sagged.

  Within seconds, the creature had climbed on top of him like she was sexing him up, but its mouth was attached to Buster's neck, and the greedy, sucking sounds made Emma's stomach turn.

  Emma was too frightened to try to help him. She whammed through the door at the back of the kitchen, stumbled into the garage.

  The barbecue grill spat and sizzled, pungent smoke pouring through the half-open garage door and into the night air.

  Throwing this party was the dumbest thing I've ever done in my life, she thought, more lucidly than she had thought anything all evening. This town has slid into a corner of hell, and here I am throwing a fucking party. How could I be so dumb? I should've split the minute I walked out of that church.

  But it was too late to get away. Vehicles blocked the driveway, keeping her from backing her Ford out of the garage. She would've even taken someone else's car to get away, but she'd have to go back inside the house to find keys, and she was afraid to go back in there.

  Screams of pain and sounds of mayhem came from her house. The cacophony of furniture being overturned. Glass shattering. Guns boomed, too; many of the folks at the party carried pieces.

  Emma wondered whether a gun would do any good against these demon fiends. In the movies, guns never killed vampires.

  Hadn't they said something at the church about fire being lethal to those monsters?

  She looked at the barbecue grill. Small flames danced in the charcoal pit, licking at the burned ribs.

  She found a length of wood lying in the corner, left over from one of Blood's woodworking projects. She doused the end of the plank with lighter fluid, and dipped it into the wriggling flames in the grill. The tip of the wood lit up with a whoosh, the heat baking the sweat on her face.

  "You know better than to play with fire, brown sugar." It was Blood. He entered the garage through the kitchen doorway.

  His fangs were fully exposed, rivulets of saliva running down his chin. Hunger gleamed in his eyes.

  "You stay away from me, Blood," Emma said. She waved the torch in front of her. "I don't wanna hurt you"

  Blood's gaze warily followed the flames. He was clearly afraid of fire. He circled her, slowly, and she turned to keep the torch between them.

  Anguish twisted his face. "I got to have you, brown sugar. Can't help it. I got to. I can't control it."

  "You ain't gotta do nothing but stay away from me ""

  He growled, feinted at her. Emma thrust the torch toward his chest. He screeched as the flames seared his flesh-a horrible sound she had never heard him make, not even when he had once dropped his cane and tumbled down a flight of stairs. She felt guilty, just for an instant, and pulled back, and it was in her moment of weakness that Blood swung his arm, backhanding her across the face.

  She had never been hit so hard in her life. She flew several feet across the garage and smashed into a wheelbarrow.

  Roaring, Blood shambled after her. He fell on top of her.

  Emma was a strong woman, stronger than many men, probably stronger than Blood when he was an ordinary man, but she was weak compared to this creature. She tried to wrestle from under him, but couldn't move him. She bucked her knee into his groin, and it made no difference. She tore her teeth into his forearm, and he didn't release his hold on her.

  H
e dipped his head down to her neck so eagerly that his skull bumped against her chin, making her bite her tongue at the same instant that his teeth pierced her neck. Warm blood spurted in her mouth.

  He drank from her like a child suckling at a mother's breast, moaning.

  Hmm ... this isn't so bad, she thought, and sighed. It feels good to let him suck from me. I don't think I've ever felt anything so good in my life.

  That old heifer, Lillie, doesn't know what she's missing ...

  Lillie Mae stood at the window, watching the happenings at her sister's place, until the monsters arrived.

  When those blood-drinking demons lurked toward Emma's house, Lillie snatched the curtains closed and stepped away from the glass.

  "I told that old fool not to throw that party," Lillie muttered. She drew on her cigarette. "Mule-headed girl never wants to listen to me ""

  Although her words were harsh, she was frightened. The devil was loose in town. She felt sorry for her sister and wished she could help her, but there was nothing she could do, not really. She was just an old woman with bad lungs and a toy dog whose bark was bigger than his bite.

  She shuffled across the living room. A single candle glowed in a dish on the nightstand. She usually liked candlelight; it reminded her of when she was a child, at a time when the world was a kinder, more considerate place. But this candlelight only stirred her fear. The shifting patches of shadows in the room seemed to conceal threatening things.

  Perched on the arm of the sofa, Rex whined softly. The dog picked up on her anxiety, as if they shared a telepathic bond. He watched her with his big, black eyes, his short tail thumping nervously. He suffered from what she called the "Little-Big Dog" syndrome and tended to bark at everything that wandered into the yard, from squirrels to cats to fallen leaves, but tonight, he stayed on the couch, and he kept quiet.

  The dog was no fool. It understood danger was near.

  "We gonna be all right, little man," Lillie said. She placed her thin hand on the dog's back, while her other hand picked up the phone off the nightstand. She was going to call the police. She could do something to help Emma and her boozing friends.