Fifty Shades of Twilight

by A. P. Wayne

  Melanie slowly brought her head back around. A handprint was already reddening on her cheek. Tears welled at the corners of her eyes.

  “How could I ... what?”

  “Please stop lying to me.” Now Jordan was crying, half out of anger, half out of frustration.

  “I don’t know what you—”

  But Jordan had already reached out and grabbed a handful of her hair. She pushed Melanie’s face into the couch and hopped on her back. She yanked the neckline of her t-shirt down and started jabbing furiously at the bite mark.

  “This! This! This! How can you explain that? What have you been doing with Walker? Was it you who left the offerings? Was it animal blood or have you been killing people, Melanie?”

  Beneath Jordan, Melanie turned over onto her back. Melanie was the smaller of the two but she put her hands on Jordan and pushed. It was the shove of a bodybuilder. Jordan went over the edge of the couch. Melanie was up and on her in a second. Jordan had never seen anyone move that fast. Now Melanie was on top of her, leaning into her, and Jordan noticed the eyes.

  All black.

  No whites anywhere.

  And Jordan felt like that was all the proof she needed. She thought she felt her heart break with one final sob.

  “Why did you let him do that?” she said.

  “Is that really what you mean? Or do you mean why did I want him to do it? And why did he do it so readily? Maybe because his girlfriend wouldn’t have any part of it? Maybe because he knew you would grow apart.”

  “Oh, Melanie,” Jordan sobbed.

  Now Melanie pressed herself down on Jordan. She put her hands on her breasts, ground her hips into her crotch. “Jordan, let me turn you. Please. You know how great it would be. We’d have each other forever. You could have Walker, too.”

  Jordan almost got lost in those eyes. Melanie lowered her head to Jordan’s neck and just that close proximity sent something like an electrical charge from her neck to her crotch. For a brief second, she was going to let her do anything she wanted to do but ... something didn’t seem right. She tried to push Melanie off, but Melanie moved her hands from Jordan’s breasts to her wrists and slammed them to the floor above her head. A string of drool ran from Melanie’s mouth, landing on Jordan’s chin.

  “No, Mel ...”

  “Maybe you don’t have a choice.”

  “This isn’t what I want.”

  Melanie moved her head closer to Jordan’s neck again, whispered in her ear, “You never know what you want, do you?”

  Melanie opened her mouth and Jordan saw the fangs inside. Walker had been a Fang way longer than Melanie and, as far as Jordan knew, he wasn’t able to do that yet. Something definitely wasn’t right. Jordan slammed her head into Melanie’s face. The other girl’s grip broke just long enough to allow Jordan to roll out from underneath her. She stood up and said, “Where’s Walker?”

  Melanie lay on the floor, wiping blood from her mouth with the back of her hand and laughing.

  Thirty-seven

  Hunter guessed her name was Melanie. That was what the girl on the phone had called her and that’s what she had answered to, so that was probably proof enough. But it still didn’t seem right to Hunter. He was pretty sure she’d given him her name last night and Melanie didn’t ring any bells at all.

  After picking him up, Melanie had swung by his house so he could get some clothes. Then she took him back to her house. Hunter was secretly hoping for a quickie but, today, she seemed completely disinterested in sex. Once she left, he felt kind of like Goldilocks in her house. The house was nice so he wasn’t disappointed when he found the liquor cabinet. He poured a couple fingers of Macallan’s and pounded it. That cleared out his head a little bit. He took his bag of clothes into the laundry room and jammed the washer as full as he possibly could. Back in Illinois, where he’d mostly had a job, he just dropped his clothes off at a laundromat. He made the washing machine make sounds and figured he’d done something right. He went to the bathroom and realized he hadn’t brought any clean clothes. Since he was the only one here, he didn’t figure it really mattered much. After taking a very long, very hot shower, and using most of the various cleansers and shampoos in the shower, he dried off and wrapped a fresh towel around his fleshy waist.

  Time to revisit the liquor cabinet, he thought.

  This time he filled the glass half full of the scotch and downed it in a couple of gulps. He made himself comfortable on the leather couch and turned on the TV. It was on Fox News and he felt a second of rage before he flipped to a less offensive news channel. He supposed the news should have made him feel like part of the world but, sitting there in a posh home in Lawrence, he couldn’t have felt more removed.

  It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep.

  Thirty-eight

  Walker felt even more lost without Melanie. She had warned him against the dark but he didn’t see anything overtly threatening. He had no idea what he was supposed to do or where he was supposed to go. He knew he needed to get back but didn’t know how he was supposed to do that. Plus, despite drinking so much of Melanie’s blood yesterday, he was incredibly hungry. Of course, if what she said was true, then it wasn’t really her he’d bitten at all, but Ilya. And that was bad news.

  If there had been any going back before, there definitely wasn’t now.

  He wasn’t sure what that meant.

  Familiarity still meant something to him so he started for Jordan’s house. She only lived one street over. He didn’t really expect to find anything there. It was only about a ten minute walk. It was quiet. He would have thought “too quiet” but, growing up on a farm, there really wasn’t such a thing. Her house had the same hollowed out, devastated look the rest of the houses had. He didn’t think it was necessary to knock on the door. The inside didn’t seem as disgusting as Melanie’s but he thought that might only be because there wasn’t any light streaming in through the windows. The stink was definitely not as pungent, though there was still an odor.

  He considered turning around and leaving, heading back the way he’d come. If there was some kind of doorway into this world and he had made it here, it stood to reason he could find that doorway again.

  Unless Ilya was the doorway.

  Maybe it was her blood that had sent him here.

  Maybe that was what being a Fang was all about. Maybe they did exist but the legends and rumors were all just that. Maybe the only way they had of infecting the people of Lawrence was through dreams.

  And if he was a Fang, then he didn’t really think he would have a lot to be afraid of anyway.

  He was at the front door, ready to leave, when he heard that screaming laugh again. Although now it was more of a sob. It sounded like it came from somewhere upstairs. Extremely familiar with this house, he found the stairs and climbed them.

  He heard the sobbing again. It came from one of the bedrooms at the end of the hall. The one Jordan’s dad used for an office.

  Walker’s defenses were up and he had to pause a second to realize what that meant. When changed, his body was a weapon with claws, teeth, strength. He felt like he could change instantly if threatened. He pushed open the door.

  A small girl sat on the floor, crying.

  She held Jordan’s head in her lap.

  A man Walker had never seen before stood in the corner of the room alternately masturbating and beating his chest.

  “This isn’t my mommy.” The little girl dropped Jordan’s head on the floor. The man in the corner rushed over, scooped up the head, took it back into the corner, and began fucking its rotten mouth.

  “Will you help me find my mommy?” The girl held out a hand to Walker.

  He knew he had to at least get her out of the room and away from this man. He pulled her up to her feet, left the room, and shut the door.

  “Thanks,” she said. “That man was really bothering me.”

  Walker wasn’t sure what this meant and didn’t think he wanted to know.


  “Do you know where your mom is?” he asked her, as gently and softly as he could.

  “I think she’s in the woods with the others.”

  “The others?”

  “Yep.”

  “Who are the others?”

  “People like me and mommy. People who can’t go home anymore.”

  Of course, Walker thought. Already, he was almost seduced by this world. This girl was probably no more real than Melanie had been. No more real than Jordan’s head. It was this world’s way of getting under his skin.

  But, since he’d been planning on going that direction himself anyway, he said, “I’ll take you to the woods and we can look for your mommy.”

  “Gee, thanks.” The girl gave him a hug around his neck.

  Even though she probably didn’t exist, he still liked the feeling it gave him.

  Thirty-nine

  “Where is he!” Jordan shouted.

  Melanie sprang to her feet in a maneuver Jordan was sure Melanie wasn’t capable of.

  “I can show you,” Melanie said.

  “What happened?”

  “I’ve already told you. Walker bit me. He made me just like him.”

  “No. Walker was never like you.”

  “Maybe you don’t know who I am.”

  “Melanie?” Jordan said.

  Melanie shook her head. Blood still trickled from her mouth.

  “Ilya?”

  Ilya nodded her head. Melanie’s head. Ilya’s head now.

  Jordan clutched her head with both of her hands. Not for the first time, she felt like she’d lost everything. Walker was nowhere to be found. He was probably in danger somewhere, if Ilya had anything to do with him not being here. And if Ilya now inhabited Melanie’s body it meant Melanie was dead. Her spirit had been devoured by the witch inside of her body. That left Jordan with nothing. She just wanted to walk away and turn her back on everything.

  Ilya glided toward her.

  “You can have him,” Jordan said.

  Ilya stopped.

  “We beat you before. I can’t fight you again. Take him. Leave me the fuck alone.”

  For a moment, Ilya looked like she was considering this. Then she said, “I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”

  “What do you mean it’s not that simple? Walker’s the only one who can bring your world here. You need him. I stood in your way before. Now I’m letting you have him. There. It’s done.”

  Ilya lowered her head and said, “I don’t forget things that easily.”

  “Well maybe you should start.”

  “No. You still have to pay.”

  Ilya sprang forward, throwing her weight on Jordan and driving her to the ground. Her mouth was on Jordan’s neck, her teeth sinking into the soft flesh. Once her teeth were locked in, Jordan didn’t even bother fighting.

  She didn’t know if Ilya was trying to turn her, to force her into a life of damnation, or if she was trying to kill her.

  Jordan let it happen.

  She felt herself grow weaker. She didn’t know what the outcome would be and wasn’t sure she cared.

  Forty

  When Hunter finally came to he stood in the kitchen, naked, shouting, “Attacked by a dog! Attacked by a dog! Hurry! Hurry!”

  “Sir. Stop shouting. We have someone on the way.”

  “Not here!”

  “I know, sir. You gave us the address. Let me also remind you that it’s illegal to place false calls.”

  Hunter slammed the phone down. It didn’t break or anything. They didn’t make them like that anymore. He had no idea what that call or conversation was about. He felt out of his head. The towel was on the floor, around his feet, and he decided to leave it there. It was probably the last thing he needed, but he went back to the liquor cabinet and finished off the bottle of scotch. Then he went to the toilet and vomited. Then he sat on the toilet and had a great and smelly shit. Then he decided this house was doing something to fuck with his head even though it was probably the most normal house he’d ever been in and he grabbed his sopping wet clothes out of the washer, put them on, and left the rest of them there.

  He stepped outside to the careening wail of sirens.

  Forty-one

  Ilya felt Jordan’s life leaking away. Maybe there would have been easier ways to kill her, but this was how Ilya wanted to do it.

  She stood up and looked down at Jordan, at the blood flowing out of her neck and pooling on the floor. Jordan’s eyes were still open to slits.

  Ilya heard the sirens in the distance. They were growing closer. Then they were in front of the house.

  Ilya thought about finishing Jordan off and then thought better of it. The bitch was a goner. Let her have a second to think she might live, might pull through. Hell, let her go to the hospital. Let her parents get their hopes up. Let the whole thing be as dramatic as possible. And then let her die. Ilya wasn’t going anywhere. If she was still alive tonight, Ilya would find her room and wouldn’t leave until she was dead.

  But for now she had to get the hell out of here.

  As she ran out the back door, she heard the front door splinter.

  Forty-two

  They left Jordan’s Neverly house. The little girl wouldn’t let Walker not hold her hand. They stepped onto the decimated street and began walking back toward the edge of town.

  “So what’s your name?” Walker asked.

  “Linda. What’s yours?”

  “My name’s Walker.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s kind of boring.”

  “Linda’s not that great either.”

  “I know. But mostly I like to be called Panther.”

  Walker laughed. “Panther?”

  “Yeah. They’re beautiful. Like big kitty cats only ... ferocious.” Linda growled the last word.

  “I guess you’re right about that.”

  “Do you have another name?”

  “I have a middle name and a last name but I’m afraid I don’t have a name as good as ‘Panther’.”

  “That’s okay. We can’t all be panthers. Just me. That’s the way I like it. All the other panthers are really far away and if I were to ever find them, I wouldn’t be special anymore.”

  “You are special.”

  “Thanks. I know. Do you like it here?”

  “Well, I haven’t really been here all that long. Do you like it here?”

  “I love it. I think it’s beautiful.”

  “Really?”

  “Uh huh. You’ll see.”

  “Well, to tell you the truth. I’m kind of trying to leave.”

  “Why would you want to do that?”

  “I have some people I need to get back to.”

  “Like I’m trying to get to my mommy?”

  “Exactly. If I help you find your mom, do you think you could help me get back to where I need to go?”

  The girl laughed quietly. “I guess that depends on where you need to go.”

  Walker tried to figure out how to explain it to her. He followed a hunch. “Do you remember dying?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, remember when you lived in a house with your mom and dad and maybe some brothers and sisters and everything didn’t look all old and broken and you got up to go to school and things?”

  “Kind of.”

  “And then something happened and one day you were here.”

  “Yeah, Mommy wrecked the car and some nice people brought us here after they cleaned the blood off and everything.” She paused, laughed, and said, “They cleaned it off with their mouths. It tickled. But Daddy and my brother Pete didn’t come with us.”

  “Okay. So, do you know where they are now?”

  “I do but I don’t think I could get to them.”

  “That’s where I need to go. So I want you to do me a favor and think really hard, okay? Think of how you would get to them and if anything comes to mind, you let me know. Okay?”

  “Deal.�
��

  “Deal.”

  He shook her hand that he’d been holding. She complained about being tired of walking and he picked her up. After she told him how much she liked piggyback rides, he shifted her around to his back.

  “So how long have you been here?”

  “A very long time.”

  “What do you do?”

  “Play, mostly.”

  “Play?”

  “Sure.”

  “What do you play with?”

  “Ha ha. People, of course.”

  “People?”

  “Sleeping people.”

  “How do you do that?”

  “Um, it’s too hard to explain.”

  “Try. I think that’s a really neat way to play with people.”

  Linda giggled again. “It is if you’re nice. Some people aren’t so nice. Some people are mean.”

  “So are you going to tell me how you do it?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Bang bang.”

  Now Walker laughed, more to put Linda at ease than anything else. He really didn’t feel that much like laughing. “I mean try and tell me how you play with sleeping people.”

  “Okay but it’s not like I’m really playing with the people who are sleeping ...”

  “You mean you don’t hold their eyes open or tickle their feet or anything?”

  “Nooo . I couldn’t do that. But maybe I could make them think I’m doing that. I guess it’s like I’m playing with their ...”

  “Thoughts?”

  “Maybe. But not all the time. They have to be asleep so ...”

  “You’re playing with their dreams?”

  “Yeah! I’m giving them dreams.”

  “And some people give them ...”

  “Nightmares.”

  “But not you. Because you’re sweet and nice and stuff.”

  “The sweetest.”

  “So what’s it like? Do you have to go somewhere to play or can you do it anywhere?”