Blue Blood

by Richard Poche

  “How much is the rent here?”

  “We got-“Veronica stopped herself. “I have a one bedroom for $1200.”

  “That’s good,” the driver said. “That’s good. I’m looking to move.”

  “You should give them a call.”

  “Do you need help getting up?”

  “No,” Veronica opened the passenger side door. “I’ll be okay.”

  The driver got back into the hospital van and peeled out, the vehicle farting out a cloud of smoke as it eased out of the lot.

  She squinted into the sunlight again, her eyes squeezing shut involuntarily. Walking to the apartment stairwell by memory, she opened her eyes every moment or so just to see where she was going. A creepy neighbor both her and Terri nicknamed “Chester” walked by, leering at her like an un-convicted serial rapist.

  “You all right?” the man asked.

  Veronica gave a slight nod then focused on the sound of the Cessna airplane flying above. Normally, the lazy drone of its propeller would relax her but now it made everything seem off-kilter. Looking down on the swimming pool fence where her best friend had impaled herself, no police tape remained. Even the blood stains on the concrete had been scrubbed out.

  Everything looked the same as before.

  She avoided looking in the direction of Terri's apartment. But in her mind's eye she recalled seeing Terri bop out of her front door to greet her. Terri with her bright smile, a warm hug and an offer to go out; drinks, pizza or just a walk on the beach.

  Opening her own door, everything looked untouched. Someone had come in and cleaned up her apartment. There were no pieces of broken glass on the ground and the window had been repaired. The entire place smelled like jasmine. Her flat screen TV remained in the same place, her cookbooks on the side counter and the berry colored couch all remained.

  That smell though. Cat shit.

  Abercrombie.

  Her favorite orange tabby had been left alone for days.

  Psst. Psst.

  Walking into the kitchen, she saw fresh cat food in the bowl.

  “You're back,” Mark said.

  She spun around and saw her boyfriend in a wheelchair come out of her bedroom.

  “Mark,” Veronica took a deep breath, clutching her chest with one hand.

  “You left the door unlocked,” Mark said. “Figured someone had to feed Mr. Abercrombie.”

  The cat jumped out of Mark’s arms and snuggled himself between Veronica’s ankles. The cat had white stripes on his orange coat, with short silky hair.

  “Abercrombie!” Veronica lowered down to her knees on the rug. “You miss me, Abercrombie?”

  The cat rubbed his head against her hand and rolled on his back. She rubbed his belly and gently scratched the underside of his chin.

  Veronica placed her cat down and embraced Mark, kissing him on the cheek. Looking up at her with half-closed eyes, he wheeled around to the refrigerator.

  “I bought some root beer.”

  “Nice,” Veronica said, knowing both he and her were going to be trying hard to make everything seem normal again.

  “Why do you think she did it?” he handed her a bottle, giving her a challenging look that she could not meet.

  Veronica opened the root beer, taking a long gulp as if it were medicine to calm her nerves.

  “I wish I knew,” Veronica said, now picking up Abercrombie’s water bowl and giving it a refill under the sink.

  “I mean, it looked like you guys had a knocked down drag out fight. I cleaned things up a bit, obviously. But it looked like there was a a fight in here.”

  “She attacked me.”

  “No way.”

  “Way.”

  “Terri wouldn't hurt a friend. Her best one at that.”

  “Not asking you to believe me.”

  “I didn't say I didn't. Just saying Terri wouldn’t do that.”

  “Maybe she was using again,” Veronica said.

  Mark wheeled closer to her. “You don't expect me to believe that, do you?”

  Veronica walked over to the window. Mark followed.

  “This one is shatter proof,” he said. “Fiberglass. For the next fight.”

  “She attacked me. You're acting as if she wasn't clean.”

  “She was clean,” Mark said. “Told me so herself. I believed her. I always believed Terri. She never lied to me. Not even when we were kids.”

  “I wouldn’t lie to you either.”

  “So why did she attack you?”

  “She was on drugs. Hallucinating. Told me she was-”

  Veronica stopped in mid-sentence. “I don't know, Mark. I think that talking about can only make it worse.”

  “She told you she was a vampire,” Mark said.

  “You knew?”

  “Because that's what she told me,” Mark said. “First, she wanted me to take her to the church. Maybe throw some holy water over and get the priest to do some kind of vampire vaccination. I told her she was crazy. Then she showed me. Like I’m going to show you.”

  Mark wheeled over to Veronica and took her by the hand. He led her to the living room mirror and pointed at the reflection.

  Veronica didn’t cast a reflection.

  “Like an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”

  Veronica stared at the mirror, looking down at Mark then back at the mirror again. Running into the bathroom, she slammed the door shut behind herself.

  Mark waited. He expected this kind of reaction.

  Veronica stripped and ran the shower, feeling a need to simply cool down. The water felt like needles, each droplet hurting her. Soon it felt as if the water was seeping inside her head. Stopping the shower cold, she shivered as she toweled off and put her clothes back on.

  After a few minutes, Veronica stepped out, white as a sheet.

  “Terri was clean,” Mark said. “She told me she became a vampire.”

  Veronica said nothing as she stepped back in front of the mirror.

  “Why didn’t she just she me instead of-“

  “Of course I thought she was still using,” Mark said. “I mean, I thought she had fallen off the wagon again and started using. I knew she could kick the drugs. The alcohol would be another matter. But she kept babbling on and finally I gave her the mirror test. No other explanation really.”

  “What else did she say?”

  Mark looked at Veronica for a long time before she turned back to face him. “She said she had a lot of urges. Really didn't go into that. It was as if she were trying to suppress the gory details from me. She wanted me to lock her in the bedroom. She was afraid of what she might do.”

  “Do you think she-,” Veronica paused. “Her boyfriend-”

  “She killed them. Yeah.”

  Veronica felt a sharp pain in her stomach. She bent over and grabbed the kitchen counter for support.

  “V?”

  Retching loudly, Veronica spat up a gelatinous blob of blood onto the linoleum floor.

  “Jesus. Veronica.”

  She looked up at Mark. He could see the white of her eyes roll over to dark purple.

  He wheeled himself backward in fear.

  Abercrombie the orange tabby sat up on his haunches. He hissed then ran into the bedroom.

  Then as suddenly as the wave hit, Veronica’s eyes returned to their normal color.

  “What's happening to me?” she said, wiping the blood away from her mouth with her sleeve.

  “I don't know.”

  “Maybe you should lock me up too.”

  Mark started to say something but stopped himself.

  Veronica looked back at Mark, focusing on his neck. She felt a strange desire to snuggle in close into the nape of his neck, just under his ear lobe. Normally, she would fantasize about kissing him. And being kissed by him. Now a desire flashed into her mind, a vision of her biting into his neck.

  If she listened hard enough, she could swear she could hear his heart beating faster in his chest.

  “Ma
rk?” Veronica looked as if she were about to pass out before running to bedroom.

  “Veronica? What is it?”

  “Lock this door,” she called out. “Board it up.”

  Veronica scrambled to close the shades. The sunlight filtering in through the window bothered her even more now, the sun rays blurring her vision. Her hands shook as she drew the shade down.

  “You okay?”

  “Get the fuck out!”

  Veronica reached the door in two steps and slammed it in Mark’s face.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “What’s wrong-”

  “I need a second,” Veronica’s mind raced with her last conversation with Terri. How the sun hurt her. How she said she felt a change coming over her. The way her eyes changed colors.

  Then the way she attacked her.

  “You all right?”

  “I just need a minute,” Veronica said, her stomach tightening with anxiety. “Your sister. She had these same. Symptoms.”

  “I wasn’t there-”

  “I think you should lock me in.”

  Veronica pressed her ear to the door, taking a deep breath. She focused on the familiar parts of herself. Her breath. Her feelings. Her capacity to think. She still had all of her faculties. She just had to control whatever impulse she had inside of her better than Terri. Terri always had impulse control problems. Veronica didn’t.

  Deep breaths. Deep breaths, she told herself.

  “Your door doesn’t have a damn lock,” Mark said. “How the hell am I going to lock you in?”

  “I don't know,” she said. “Move some furniture in front of it or something.”

  “Yeah,” Mark said. “I'm good at that. In fact, I'm going to apply at a moving company tomorrow.”

  “Tie me to the bed post then,” Veronica opened the door.

  “That's something I've been wanting to do,” he laughed. “But I had different circumstances in mind.”

  “This is serious. And even if you so much as kiss me it could be fatal.”

  “Do you have any rope?”

  “No.”

  “Tape?”

  Veronica sifted through her drawers. She knew she had some left-over tape from her many arts and crafts endeavors. She found the roll of tape and began tying her right wrist on the right side of the bedpost.

  “Can you help please?”

  Mark wheeled over and put the finishing touches on the wrap. Veronica pulled at the tape and it started to give.

  “I don't know if this will work,” she said.

  “What else do you recommend?”

  He wheeled over to the left side of the bed and taped her wrist to that post. “I should do your ankles too.”

  “What if I have to pee?”

  “Do vampires piss and shit? No. They're out busy biting things.”

  “I’m scared, Mark,” Veronica bit gently down on her lower lip.

  “Me too,” Mark turned off the lights. Wheeling toward the edge of the counter, he lit a pair of candles.

  Mark looked back at Veronica without expression. She gave him a half-smile which quickly dissolved into a look of worry. The candlelight touched his skin with a golden hue as he wheeled back to her. His shadow flickered up and down across the wall, expressing the restlessness he felt within.

  “Maybe get some holy water and pour it across the door,” Veronica offered. “Line it with garlic. Put a cross on top.”

  “Right. I mean if you're showing in the reflection then all of those things gotta be true too.”

  “Right,” Veronica said. “There's a discount vampire store around the corner.”

  “Now whose being silly?”

  “Make sure it’s tight,” Veronica looked and her restraints and pulled on it. Mark put another layer of tape over them.

  “Is your circulation okay?”

  “I’m a vampire. I think our blood just flows and flows.”

  “I'll go the store,” Mark said. “Garlic and a cross are easy peasy. I'll sneak into the church and get some holy water.”

  “Saint Barnabas has a fountain at the entrance. You can get in and out in without being seen. I think they charge you.”

  “You’re such a good sport.” Mark leaned over and kissed Veronica on the forehead. “I'll be back.”

  He wheeled around and looked back at Veronica, laying in the bed in a crucifix position. Eyes met eyes until she turned her gaze to the flickering candles.

  “Close the door,” she said.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Veronica lied.

  She had to get rid of Mark. Keeping him safe became her highest priority.

  If whatever was inside Terri was now inside her. She had to take the precautions her friend didn't take.

  Ripping out of her taped restraints with ease, Veronica felt a pang of nausea roll through her body. Her stomach contracted and she dry heaved. Waiting for the feeling to pass, she walked rubbery legged to her drawer to put on some fresh clothes. Anxiety added a shakiness to her movements, and she struggled with buttoning her coat. Fully dressed, she ran her fingers through her hair more out of habit than anything else and stepped out of the apartment.

  Her need for blood had to be satiated. But she didn’t want to meet that desire by hurting anyone. Not like Terri did.

  Walking down the main street, her mind began making calculations. Hazy shadows blanketed every building. Rows and rows of auto dealerships stood on one side of the street. On the other, abandoned storefronts. A bar with no windows and a grocery store.

  She remembered that a veterinary clinic stood on the main strip, only a block and a half away. She could break in quick enough and find some kind of blood available for transfusion.

  No, that would be too risky. She’d have a helluva time breaking in then have an even harder time trying to find where they keep the blood supply locked up. She’d have to do something easy. Go to the store. Buy those nasty looking cartons of liver seeped in blood.

  Then a woman came walking toward her.

  An elderly Asian woman. Small and frail, teetering on her last leg.

  Veronica felt the desire surge inside her. She could push the lady to the ground with ease, mount her then bite into her jugular.

  A negotiation took place in her mind, ruling out her inner conscience. A voice inside her head justified the killing. The lady didn’t have too much of life left. An old bag living on borrowed time. Not too bright obviously, walking home at this hour in this neighborhood.

  Veronica watched as the old lady walked past a shuttered massage parlor, now rusted with age and sunk between an abandoned bakery and a donut shop. The streetlight above began to flicker on and off. Elm trees on the sidewalk swayed like ferns in a jungle.

  Then the punk came out of the darkness.

  Waiting inside the alcove of the massage parlor, the young man had set up his perch there, on the lookout for a crime of opportunity.

  Veronica hurried her step, watching as the teenaged man, dark-skinned with a hoodie honing in on the old woman. Like a raven looking down on a helpless duckling, his body language made his intent all too clear. He didn’t even bother looking around to see if he had any witnesses like any good scumbag would do. He focused so hard on the old lady’s purse that he didn’t even notice Veronica across the street, coming in the opposite direction.

  The old woman heard the man coming. Turning around, her body stiffened as she went into fight or flight mode.

  Like a football linebacker anticipating a runner’s path, Veronica sprang forward, the sound of her tennis shoes hitting the pavement echoed in the quiet street. The young man snatched the old woman’s purse, twisting and turning like a mad dog with rabies. The old lady held on tight before Veronica smashed her forefinger into his eye.

  “Fuck!” the young man screamed, gritting a mouth full of gold teeth in a mixture of pain and anger. He let go of the purse as the old lady spun around but kept both her balance and her purse.

  “Fuck you doing, bitch?’ the t
hug hissed like a vulture, as if he were entitled to the perpetration of his crime.

  He got into an approximation of a boxer’s pose and snarled, like a wounded hyena. Veronica saw him as an especially ugly young man, having a nose so wide and flat it looked as if it had been ironed to his face.

  Veronica decided to make it flatter.

  With stunning swiftness, she smashed his face with an open palm.

  The young man reeled back, holding his nose.

  “Fuck!”

  “Get a fucking job,” the Asian woman screamed, now running away.

  Defeated, the young man bolted to the opposite direction, running across the street.

  Veronica gave chase as he turned the corner, entering a side alley.

  No witnesses, Veronica thought smiling.

  Increasing her stride, she caught up to the man and pushed him down from behind. He rolled and somersaulted, ending up on his back.

  He looked up at her, his eyes like dynamite.

  “Fuck you doing?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Veronica mounted him as he tried desperately to work himself free of her grasp. Her hands and legs smothered him as she pinned him to the concrete.

  The young man’s eyes were now a picture of violent understanding. For an instant, Veronica felt a surge of power inside herself. She could see the fear in the man’s eyes. Like a wolf being attacked by a bigger wolf, he understood her intentions better than the sheep he hunted.

  The punk squealed like a baby lamb when her fangs tore into his throat, blood spurting against the massage parlor wall and the concrete.

  At first, the blood felt like acid going down her throat, burning its way down into her belly. But then Veronica felt a mysterious warmth as she drank more, drawing the life out of the man. Feeling herself losing control, she began to shiver as the punk’s screams gurgled into the night’s lifeless air.

  Veronica woke up, groaning as if she were in mild pain. A mockingbird sang near her window. Opening her eyes, she squinted at the hazy predawn light filtering through the blinds.

  “Shit,” she said, quickly shielding herself with her hand.

  “Sorry,” Mark said. “I forgot.”

  He wheeled over and closed the blinds. Now the room swayed with shadows.

  “What happened?”